


Every Minute Counts

by shadesofmidnightsun



Series: Time [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Internalized racism, M/M, Mythology References, PTSD, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 55,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofmidnightsun/pseuds/shadesofmidnightsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saving the world again isn't easy, especially when you're still paying the price for doing it the first time, nobody believes you can actually do it even though they keep demanding it, and there's a relationship to maintain. Ultimately, they will have to decide: what price is too high?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I: Called the Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi, everyone! It took me longer than expected to start writing this, but now it’s here, and I’ll hope you’ll enjoy it. The story follows the events of Thor the Dark World to some degree, but a lot of it is going to be different. To avoid any confusion: there is no alignment in this fic.  
> Some of the contents may be triggering (see the rating), but if you survived TDW, you should be fine. I won’t write warnings here so as to not spoil anything. If anyone’s worried, you can tell me, and I’ll start including them in the A/N at the end.  
> 

 

 

_You've got the words to change a nation_  
_But you're biting your tongue_  
_You've spent a life time stuck in silence_  
_Afraid you'll say something wrong_  
_If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song?_  
  
_So come on, come on_  
_Come on, come on_  
_You've got a heart as loud as lions_  
_So why let your voice be tamed?_  
_Maybe we're a little different_  
_There's no need to be ashamed_  
_You've got the light to fight the shadows_  
_So stop hiding it away_  
_Come on, come on_

_(Emili Sande—Read All About It)_

**~*oO*o*Oo*~**

**Chapter I–Called the Nightmares**

 

_Daymare (noun): a frightening hallucinatory condition experienced while awake_

 

Rough fingers were digging in his flesh, holding his body down, and his teeth were twisting his bloodied lip— _don't give them the satisfaction, don't_ —

His legs were forced apart, and then fingers were between them, and his insides rebelled, suddenly desiring to taste the cold air that smelled of death...

His eyes snapped open, breath caught in his throat, but he stopped his body before it could move. A moment later, the heels of his palms covered his eyes, pressing down against the flesh.

His insides felt cold. The kind of cold that had nothing to do with winter, not even the cold waste of Jotunheim.

Gently, he pried Tony's arm from around his own body and slid out of the bed. His gaze found his discarded clothes, and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull them on as fast as possible to cover his exposed body. He didn't, though. The clothes were wrinkled and dirty, and there were fresh ones in the closet.

He used to like the nights. Now, he couldn't decide whether he hated or feared them.

After dressing in sweatpants and one of Tony's hoodies, he dragged himself into the kitchen, his bare feet soundless against the floor. There wasn't much food in the fridge. Not that he had an appetite. In the end, he boiled some water and tossed in some herbs, then found the blueberries that Tony hadn't used the day before. The man probably wouldn't be surprised anymore if he saw Loki eating them frozen. Which he was about to do; he took the mug of steaming tea and the bag of fruit that had been carelessly ripped apart, and settled on the terrace, leaning against the facade of the house with his back.

Perhaps sex had not been the best idea. He could have waited. But it was so much easier to deal with Tony's lust than with his own; the first he could pretend to overlook, and Tony never pushed. With the latter he either had to resort to denial or indulge it. It presented a danger either way.

He took a sip of tea. Let the taste of mint linger in his mouth before he swallowed.

Yesterday had been so... nice. Safe. A little bubble of affection that his nightmares had managed to pierce so effortlessly. Had their intercourse, no matter how pleasant, how intimate, called the nightmares to his mind?

He wished, quite suddenly, Tony would be here with him. Yet the man could do nothing about Loki's troubles. In a way, it was similar to struggling with the discovery that his sexual preferences weren't strictly limited to women, but not quite the same. It was not the type of sexuality he was struggling with; it was the fact he had a sexuality at all, and by now his fears had subsided enough that he couldn't suppress it any longer. Not completely. It didn't matter how pleasurable Tony made it (and he made it _quite_ pleasurable), Loki was afraid of his own body's needs.

He squeezed the mug in irritation. Pathetic. So pathetic. He'd managed to deal before, he would manage now.

Perhaps he should wake Tony. Somebody needed to make sure his friends got back to America, and Loki saw no reason why he should be that someone. He'd gone to certain lengths to assure his relationship with them was civil, but they were Tony's friends first (even if they'd brought Loki presents).

Putting another handful of blueberries in his mouth, he got to his feet.

Tony was still sprawled all over the bed in his usual way that caused the corners of Loki's lips twitch involuntarily. The mattress dipped under the god's weight. His hand came to rest on Tony's shoulder and shook. The man grumbled something that didn't sound even remotely like a word, and Loki shook him again. This time, chocolate brown peeked through thick eyelashes.

"Hey, snowflake," Tony muttered. "Awake already?"

"Your friends will be mad."

"Who wanted them to come with us, huh?" Tony rubbed his eyes.

Loki shrugged. "It was fun enough."

"True." Tony's fingers brushed the arm the god was leaning on. "Come back to bed."

He was tempted to. So very tempted. But the closeness had lost its appeal for now, so he pulled his arm away. Tony frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm going to make waffles. Do you want some?"

"Like I would ever say no to waffles." Tony sat up. "And I suppose I should get the team back to the USA if they haven't found a way already."

Loki nodded and wanted to leave, but a grip on his wrist stopped him. Tony climbed onto his knees, pulled Loki downwards, and pressed his lips over the god's, morning breath and all, but Loki found himself returning the kiss. It was everything that was good about Tony: safety, affection, acceptance. Love. For once, Loki _was_ good enough for somebody.

The remnants of the dream reverberating in his mind lost a bit of their power. Pushing his hair back and tying it up, he walked back into the kitchen downstairs--

And froze at the door.

"Jarvis? What is the meaning of this?" He narrowed his eyes at the form sitting by the table. "I don't think we were expecting visitors."

"Mr Odinson said it was urgent."

"It doesn't appear very urgent." In fact, Thor was still sitting as if he belonged there, as if it was his birth-given right.

"My apologies, sir."

"Brother..."

"What do you want?"

He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this.

Thor sighed. Perhaps he didn't look quite so self-assured after all. Worry had sharpened his features.

"I require your help."

"My help?" Loki closed the distance to the counter with a few steps and leaned against it. "What would you need my help with, I wonder. I believe I was nothing more than a common whore to you. Why don't you ask one of Asgard's concubines to assist you."

"I never said that!"

Loki's hands balled into fists. "You never had to!"

"Loki, please. I have not come to argue."

"No, you came asking for a favour. Why should I listen to your requests?"

Thor entwined his fingers, then separated them and did it again. "It is about Jane Foster."

"What of her? If you wanted advice," Loki spat, "on how to get between her legs, perhaps you should be asking Tony."

"That's enough!" Thor slammed his fists down on the on the table. "Stop speaking of yourself in such a manner! And not a word about Jane."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Get out."

"It's about the Aether."

"Aether."

"Yes. It has entered Jane's body. Father said she couldn't be helped."

"Then why do you come to me for help?" Loki turned his back on Thor and took a glass out of the cupboard; he'd left the mug in their bedroom.

"If I do nothing, the Aether will kill her."

Water swirled in the glass. "I am not overly familiar with the Aether. In fact, I am not familiar with it at all." He knew the stories, of course, but he was neither in the mood nor in the position to do more research; of all the things Asgard possessed, the library was one of the few he missed.

"Loki, please..." Thor's gaze was pleading. "How would you feel if Stark was going to die?"

His chest constricted painfully. No. He wouldn't think about that.

"I don't know how to get the Aether out of her, Thor."

"You know the books... Is there nothing...?"

Loki pressed his lips together. How fiercely Thor sought to protect his woman. How he had said nothing now and again when Loki had been mocked for a millennium. How nobody had come to help him, how nobody had even asked, nobody but Stark, the man who, at that time, was supposed to be his enemy... Bitter words filled his mouth, but he swallowed them. Thor didn't need to know, and Loki didn't need his pity.

"Perhaps you should read a book or two," he suggested. "Paid attention to the stories. The Aether cannot be destroyed."

"What if the stories lie?"

"What of it? The solution remains hidden. Now get out of my house."

Of course he wouldn't obey. His hands dropped heavily onto Loki's shoulders.

"She will _die_. You would let her die to spite me?"

Loki growled. Had Thor no semblance of a brain in his head? Did he really think everything was about him and him alone? Incapable of accepting the fact Loki did not know a way to pull the Aether out of somebody, and how would he, even, when all he had heard were stories, and stories could be relied on about as much as earthly weather in November. Incapable of believing not everything that left Loki's mouth was insincere. The Trickster wondered why it hurt each and every time; he had given Thor (and the rest of Asgard) an abundance of reasons to mistrust him, yet a small, pathetic part of him was still disappointed every time they didn't believe him. A fool, that's what he was. A sentimental fool.

His lips parted to form a reply, but Thor was faster.

"You think Stark would approve of this pettiness?"

Loki's blood boiled.

"Don't you dare bring Tony into this! Don't you _dare_!!!" He pointed towards the exit in one mad gesture. "Now get out," he hissed between his teeth. "Get out before I decide to kill your woman myself!"

A storm raged in Thor's eyes, lightning ready to strike, still he turned slowly, threw one more dark glare over his shoulder, and walked away. Half a minute later, Jarvis announced Thor had left the premise, and Loki gripped the edge of  the counter with enough force that his knuckles turned snow white and the material itself came closer to denting than Tony would ever want it to be, and that was the only reason it remained in one piece right now.

His breathing rattled through his chest. For a moment, he stood still. Then, he bolted for the door, fighting the instinct to set something on fire, and sucked in a lungful of crisp morning air. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as his legs carried him away from the house, down one street, then another, just away, and he wished teleportation wouldn't demand so much effort so he could reappear in some desolate place where his anger would disturb and sadden only him.

Did he think Tony would approve? Of course he didn’t. Tony was _good_ , better than Loki would ever be, and Tony' approval... was important. But years and years of insults stung. Worst of all, Thor wasn't even aware. Even when he should have started thinking, some things have never crossed his mind. Perhaps a Jotun's brain really _did_ work differently... But if Loki's brain was the representation of the whole species...

No.

He had to be an exception, brought up in Asgard as he'd been. The Jotnar were monsters. He was a monster. What did Tony see in him?

Tony wouldn't like to see him thinking that... He was sure. But the man didn't know, and no amount of his dislike could change the truth.

He didn't know how much time had passed; by now, he could turn his mind off and simply let his feet carry him around the neighbourhood. Sun rays were caressing his skin in a gentle, soothing way, so very different from the way they could scorch it in the summer that it was sometimes hard to believe they came from the same sun. The weather was getting colder again. It was quite pleasant now; Loki preferred it over summer, but he wasn't overly fond of winters, either; the memory of cold biting into his bones was all too clear in his mind.

Heading back might be the best. Tony was probably wondering where he was... And leaving his phone at home had not been the smartest thing he had ever done.  But Thor was terribly talented in agitating him beyond belief...

He huffed, clenching his hands into fists. Of course Thor would stay on his mind even when he was gone. Thor was always on everybody's mind. But that was the problem, wasn't it? It was always Thor.

He shook his head minutely and headed towards home. Perhaps Tony would suggest going to Malibu again. Loki liked it there, but they had only stayed for about two weeks in August. It was too hot for him, and while he could take the heat, it was making him feel tired and uncomfortable; there were still memories in his mind, sharp like shards of broken glass. But now the climate should be milder, and Loki enjoyed the swimming (although Tony had not been impressed with his idea to swim by the cliffs at first. Sometimes, the man still had a hard time understanding what Loki's body was and wasn't capable of).

He crossed the last street, had Jarvis open the gate to the garden, and he walked back to the house. The soles of his feet ached, but he didn't care too much; they weren't bleeding. He headed for the bathroom, partly to clean his feet, partly to relieve himself, and when he emerged again, Tony was there, waiting.

"Hi." Loki deliberately brushed his hand against the man's as he moved towards the living room.

"Hey. What happened?"

Tony followed. Of course Tony followed. There was some kind if security in the knowledge that he would. But Tony asked, too, because for some reason he managed to read Loki like a book, and as much as that made him feel warm inside, it could also be annoyingly inconvenient, especially considering Loki did not feel like sharing his encounter with Thor.

"I had a bad dream," he said simply, sat down on the l-shaped sofa, and stretched his back. Tony settled beside him.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Not particularly. It was nothing special."

“It drove you out of the bed." Tony's hand brushed against Loki's; a brief, feather-light touch that carried warmth with it, the kind of warmth that somehow managed to travel straight to Loki's chest.

"Was sex a bad idea?"

Loki shook his head. A no was much simpler than the mess in his head. He did not regret the night. He just... didn't know.

"Your friends," he said, moving his hand just a bit in hopes that Tony might take hold of it. "Have they returned home?"

Tony's lips twitched upwards. "Yeah. They weren't overly amused, though. But, you know, I've always been sort of an ass, so at least they can't blame it on your influence."

"You really are an ass."

"Yeah. Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist ass. What do you think?"

"Not original enough." His hand half covered Tony's.

"Maybe.  I'll work on it. Oh, there's Thai in the fridge if you want some. Also, how can you run around barefoot in October. Or is it November yet?"

"It's October." Loki pulled his legs up and crossed them.

"Right." Tony finally squeezed his hand. "Babe, I'm sorry about your dream."

Loki frowned. "I told you it was nothing... special."

"Please. You went out for half a day without bothering to put your shoes on. Don't give me that."

For a second or two, he contemplated telling Tony about Thor. But what if Tony thought he should have agreed to help? He wouldn't he mad, Loki knew as much, but seeing disproval in those brown eyes hurt in places where there should be no pain.

"Nothing new, then."

"Would it help you if you started meeting with Liv again?"

He shook his head. "Telling her won't change the past."

Tony's thumb began moving over the back of Loki's hand. "What about me?"

Loki shrugged. He could still feel the bruising grip on his thighs, the coldness of their fingers, the blood in his mouth, and the darkness... The darkness that had come before and had not left since...

He gripped Tony's fingers back. "Can we watch a movie?"

"Of course we can. I heard there are really cute minions in Despicable Me. What do you say?"

_Don't hurt me. Promise you won't ever hurt me._

But he could not ask for that. What use was it, asking for impossibilities?

"It sounds all right." He leaned his head on Tony's shoulder though the position did nothing for his neck.

Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Jane felt her heartbeat reverberating through every inch of her body and echoing the shaky inhales she was trying to silence by pressing a hand over her mouth. Her lungs felt too small, her eyes were burning and unable to shift away from the figure that lay crumpled on the floor. She blinked when the lightning came, twitched at the display of rage she’d never seen in Thor before.

It was over so fast. Finally, she could allow herself to make a noise, but when she lowered her hand, nothing but quiet breathing came out.

Stepping out of her hiding place, she watched the old King gather the Queen in his arms as if pressing her against his chest could somehow cause his heartbeat to become contagious, and her eyes to open again.

She watched as Thor, his face a mask of pain-stricken shock, stared at his mother and then slowly, slowly made a step towards her. Another one. Another.

He dropped to his knees and with gentleness that seemed almost uncharacteristic caressed Frigga’s cheek.

A tear fell and disappear into dark blond locks.

Jane couldn’t see Odin’s face, since it was buried in the bloodied folds of the Queen’s dress, but suddenly, the old Áss screamed, roared in pain, and threw his head back. Jane twitched. Thor turned to his father, more silent tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. His hand squeezed Odin’s forearm.

Jane lowered her head. It was their private grief she was intruding on. Their loss. Although she had nothing but admiration for the woman who’d willingly endangered herself to save her kingdom, Frigga had been a stranger to her.

Perhaps she should leave.

But perhaps Thor could find some comfort in her presence? In her safety? Did she even matter now when his mother was dead and he overcome with grief? She could hardly compare to a mother, or what she had with Thor with a bond more than thousand years old.

Tentatively, she lifted her eyes to Thor’s face. As if feeling her gaze, he looked up, and his lips twitched as if he was trying to smile for her. She shook her head.

No, he didn’t have to force on a smile for her.

No, she wasn’t hurt.

No, she didn’t know what to do, either.

“Jane,” he said quietly.

Her steps were slow as she approached Thor, every movement slowed by uncertainty, but he stood and stretched his hand towards her; his palm was warm on the side of her neck.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Jane.” He gave her neck a gentle squeeze and let go. He turned. Placed the same hand on Odin’s shoulder.

“Father.”

Odin’s eye was dry, but strangely absent and red.

“She’s dead,” he whispered.

Thor nodded.

Jane looked away.

“We cannot stay here,” Thor said.

Movement made Jane look again. Thor was holding Frigga in his arms, and Odin stood beside him, looking numb. Jane followed the two gods without thinking. As soon as they came through the door, though, she saw guards running towards them, their armour rattling.

They came to an abrupt halt, eyes on Frigga’s body. Pressed their fists to their chests and sank to the floor.

Perhaps it was a way to give their condolences. Jane was hardly a good judge of what was proper here, but they weren’t being very helpful.

She suddenly felt very out of place.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

It was evening when Thor entered her rooms after she’d been left alone for hours. Deep lines made his face look older. His steps were tired.

Without a word, Jane took his hand and led him to the sofa by the fireplace. The soft crackling of fire served as background noise. It was relaxing, in some way.

Thor squeezed Jane’s hand.

“The funeral will be just before dawn.”

“That is… very fast.”

“We are at war, Jane Foster. The enemy will not rest.”

“Then stop being at war,” she murmured. “Until morning. Stop being at war.” She turned towards him, hand reaching up to touch his face. “Rest.”

He covered her hand with his own and pressed it against his face.

“I cannot believe she is gone,” he breathed.

Jane didn’t say anything. Slowly, she guided his head down until it was resting in her lap, her fingers carding through her hair.

“It is my fault,” he said.

“No.”

“I could have been faster. I could have saved her.”

“It is not your fault, Thor,” Jane said gently. For it was hers. Her curiosity had endangered an entire realm.

She knew what Thor’s answer to her thoughts would be, so she didn’t voice them. But that didn’t stop her eyes from tearing up.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Loki refused the invitation to bed. But sometime in the middle of the night, Tony felt the mattress shift, and opened his eyes a crack. Loki wasn’t looking at him as he crawled under the blanket and curled up against Tony’s side. His breathing lulled the billionaire back to sleep.

 


	2. Chapter II: If It's the Postman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stark Mansion attracts another unexpected visitor, and of course everybody turns to Loki when they need help breaking the law.

**Chapter II–If It’s the Postman**

 

_Consternation (noun): a feeling of anxiety or dismay, typically at something unexpected._

 

He missed the sun stirring him awake, but feeling Loki’s warmth beside him made up for it in a very nice way.

Tony propped himself on an elbow and caressed Loki’s cheek with his free hand. The god’s sleep seemed peaceful; no frown marred his brow, no sign of another nightmare present. He still hadn’t told Tony what dream had upset him so two days ago, but at least he’d been sleeping since then. A soft smile stretched Tony’s lips. There were times Loki was hard to deal with, but there were moments like this, too, when he was so incredibly thankful to have the Trickster.

Feeling lazy, he shifted a bit closer to Loki and lay back down.

The doorbell rang. Before Tony could even groan in annoyance, Loki twitched in his arms.

“If it’s the postman, tell him to go away,” the man groaned.

“No, sir. It is Ms Foster.”

He felt Loki tense at that.

“Jane?”

What the hell was Jane doing here?

“Let her in,” he said, pushing the blanket away. “We’ll be right there.” He switched sweatpants for jeans and the stretched t-shirt he slept in for a clean whiter shirt. From the corner of the eye, he saw Loki changing, too. They strode out of the room almost at the same time, Tony at Loki’s heels, and walked downstairs. Suddenly, Loki stopped. Tony just barely avoided bumping into him. He stepped to the side.

Jane was standing in the hall, hands crossed on her back, and observing the pieces of abstract art that were hanging on the walls. A long cloak fell over her left shoulder and covered parts of her creamy dress. Tony had never seen her wear anything like this. It was very, very odd, and seemed to scream Asgard at the top of its lungs.

“You seem to be holding up well.”

Tony glanced to his right, catching sight of Loki’s narrowed eyes and closed-off face.

Jane turned to face them.

“For now.” Her gaze settled on Loki. She took a breath. “Look, I know you don’t want to help us, but this isn’t just about Thor and me. The whole of Asgard is in danger. And I’m not”—she sort of chortled in a way that had nothing to with humour and everything with nerves—“I’m not the one who should be asking this, and I know you must hate me for what happened, but Thor is discussing things—”

“What do you mean, what happened?” Loki cut in.

Tony frowned. He was missing something. A big something. This whole conversation was about a topic he knew nothing about, and when had Loki and Jane spoken since that time when the movie night had gone wrong?

Jane blinked. “Well, the attack and—and… I’m so sorry for that. She was protecting me, and—”

“For what? Who?” Urgency coloured Loki’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

Jane’s eyebrows arched. “Thor said he’d talked to you… That you’d already refused him…”

“Yes,” Loki snarled. “Two days ago. What of it?”

“Two… two days? Oh my god… He didn’t…” She covered her mouth with her hand.

“He didn’t what!? What are you not telling me?!”

Tony automatically grabbed Loki’s hand. He didn’t want to see Jane held by the collar and shaken like a small kitten.

“Malekith lead an attack on Asgard,” Jane said quietly, arms wrapped around her torso. “Frigga was killed.”

_“What?”_

“I’m sorry—”

_“What?!”_ Loki jerked forwards. “She wasn’t—She can’t have—She’s not— _You’re lying! You’re fucking lying!!!”_

Jane retreated even as Loki reached for her, and Tony gripped his elbows and jerked him back hard enough for Loki’s back to hit the inventor’s chest. Tony’s arm wrapped around the god’s torso.

“Loki,” he said urgently. “Loki.”

The god shook his head. “No. No, no, no!”

Tony managed to catch Jane’s gaze and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. She pointed the same way, a question in her eyes, then nodded and walked away without letting Loki out of her sight.

“Snowflake…”

“No. No, _she can’t be dead!_ ”

“Loki.” Tony walked around to Loki’s front and hugged him more tightly. Hands clutched him, fingers digging into his shoulder and middle of his back.

“She’s lying,” Loki muttered into Tony’s neck. “It’s a lie, it’s a filthy lie.”

“Breathe, babe…” Tony started rubbing Loki’s back.

“Tony...”

A pause. A shaky breath.

“Tony…”

Fingers dug into the man’s skin.

“ _Tony._ ”

“I know…” He unwrapped his arms from around Loki and made a step back. “Let’s sit down, okay?” He took Loki’s hand and led the way to the couches. Loki dropped down on the cushions as if he had no energy left to keep on standing. His eyes were glistering and dark, but there were no tears.

Tony settled down next to him. He squeezed Loki’s hand; it was trembling in his grip.

“I’m sorry…”

“She’s dead.”

Loki’s voice sounded much too close to the same state, too.

"I'm sorry, babe."

He remembered coming home in the middle of the night, not even completely sober, to find the police in front of his house. He'd thought they were there to arrest him or something.

"I'm so sorry."

Remembered throwing up on somebody's shoes when they'd delivered the news. Remembered feeling numb. Screaming. Passing out.

Loki gripped his hand strong enough to cause pain. He seemed to realize it a second later; the hold loosened.

"You didn't do anything. Don't be sorry."

"My condolences then." But that sounded so formal, so much like he didn't care at all when in reality, he did.

"Why?" Loki exhaled. "Why her?"

Tony imagined he could read _Why the only person I care about?_ in his eyes. He shifted closer to the Trickster, freed his hand, and placed his arm around Loki's shoulders.

"The woman." Loki looked at him. "She must know what happened."

"Perhaps. I can ask her to—"

Loki was on his feet in a blink of an eye, striding towards the kitchen.

"You," Tony heard him say before he entered the room as well, "you know how she died? Who killed her?"

Jane, who was sitting at the table, looked up. The frown on her face made it clear she disapproved of the way Loki had addressed her.

"He was with Malekith," she said, "but I don't know his identity."

"Malekith." Loki began pacing like a caged beast. "Tell me."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You could at least pretend to be thankful to me."

For a moment, Loki stopped. "For what? Delivering the news of my mother's passing? _She is dead! I cannot be thankful!"_

He kept glaring for a second longer before he resumed the pacing.

"Would you rather I didn't?" Jane countered.

Loki snarled something that may or may not have been a word. He flexed his fingers. Tony opened his mouth and closed it again. His gaze was on Loki's back now.

"Did she suffer?"

Jane shook her head. "No. She was... very brave. She sacrificed herself."

Loki turned to face her again. "You were there." His voice was level and calm, but a thick, protective wall.

Jane nodded. “Malekith wanted the Aether,” she said quietly. “Queen Frigga hid me from him, left a doppelgänger in my place. I was wondering why she didn’t do it herself, too.” She paused for a second. “But then I saw she meant to kill Malekith. And she would have succeeded if it wasn’t for his… henchman. She was stabbed from behind. It happened quickly.”

Loki shifted. He leaned on the backrest of a chair, hands gripping the wood. He stood still for a while.

“Thank you,” he said finally. “For telling me.”

“I thought Thor had told you,” she said.

Loki ignored the comment. His voice was level and blank. “What did you want my help with?”

Yes, excellent question. Tony wanted to know that, too.

“Thor said the Aether guided Malekith to Asgard. He wanted it back, that’s why they attacked. Since they failed to get it, they will try again. As far as I understood, Asgard has no way to fight them. Its defences don’t work. Malekith can make his ship turn invisible.”

“What do you want from me? I already told Thor I can’t get the Aether out of you.”

Jane cocked her head. “But is it the truth?”

Loki’s fingers twitched in a way that never meant anything good. The tightness in his jaw told Tony enough about the damage that remark had done.

“So you thought under the pressure of having the destruction of Asgard on my conscience, I would admit I refused just to spite Thor?” Loki’s fingers gripped the backrest tighter for a moment, then released it, and he began pacing again. “Listen well, Jane Foster. I do not have the knowledge to pull the Aether out of your body. Given enough time, there is a big possibility I could acquire it, but _you do not have time_. If accusing me of having lied is the only reason you’ve come, you may as well take your leave.”

“It’s not,” she said, levelling Loki with a stare. Tony had to hand it to her, she was holding her ground rather well. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that—if that was what Loki had meant with the lack of time—she was dying.

The Trickster made a swirling gesture with his hand. “Enlighten me.”

“They came up with a possibility,” she said, and Tony decided it was high time for him to sit down. Loki didn’t seem about to strangle the scientist, so Tony could probably relax a bit.

“Thor, Odin, somebody else perhaps. I think it’s still being discussed.” Jane took a breath. “The Aether is Malekith’s weapon. He can control it, and so he should be able to get it out of me. Thor thinks he could destroy it and Malekith at that time.”

“Ah, then it must be true.”

The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Tony.

“I don’t know about that, but there’s a problem—Odin won’t let Thor do that. As far as I know, he is afraid that if Thor died, Asgard would be left without an heir and exposed to the threat of a civil war.”

Loki huffed. “ _Now_ he is afraid of that? Have you any idea how many pointless battles Thor has engaged in during his life? No”—he stalked behind Jane like a predator—“I think _you_ are the problem. Thor likes you too much.”

Jane fixed him with a glare. “Odin doesn’t seem to be complaining about your choice of a partner.”

“Well, I’m not the future king of Asgard, am I?”

What _was_ he to Asgard? Tony had never asked about the details. As far as he knew, Loki was happy staying as far away from Asgard as possible. Would he be accepted back? Better question, would he be allowed back? Was he still a prince there? He hadn’t been renounced, right?

“Asgard needs a future queen. They want little princes and princesses. A romance with a mortal is not what they expect from their king-to-be.”

Jane lowered her eyes.

“You will be dead so soon in their eyes. Perhaps you won’t matter long term, but you cannot expect anyone but Thor and those few Aesir who would go out of their way for him to help you.”

Loki walked around the table and sat down on the chair across from Tony’s. Their feet touched for a moment.

“Does Asgard still require the Tesseract for travel or have they rebuilt the Bifrost yet?”

“They have the Bifrost.”

“I assume Odin won’t let you use it?”

Jane nodded.

“And Heimdall must have told Thor about the existence of the secret paths.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know about that. But Thor said you’d be able to get us to Svatl—Svarf—”

“Svartalfheim.”

Were all Aesir words such tongue twisters?

“Yes. Is it true?”

Loki pressed his lips together. He nodded. His foot came to rest against Tony’s, seeking contact.

“Will you help us?”

Elbows resting on the table, the god clasped his hands in front of his chin. His eyelids slid about halfway down, his eyebrows wrinkled just the slightest.

“Perhaps. Where is Heimdall in this?”

“I don’t know. I think Thor talked to him?”

“Hm.” The chair’s legs screeched against the floor as Loki got up. “You will go back to Asgard. Tell Thor I will let you know by dawn.”

“How?”

“Simple.” A crooked grin spread over his face. “Either I will be there, or I will not.”

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

“Huh.” Tony leaned on the door he’d just closed behind Jane. “I’ve got so many questions.”

“I was wondering how you managed to keep silent the whole time.”

Tony shrugged. “I wanted to hear what you had to say.”

A barely-there smile formed on Loki’s lips. “Ask away,” he said and pushed strands of hair out of his face. He was starting to leave it loose and completely untamed like this more often. Tony’s fondness for running fingers through it may have attributed to that.

“You can walk between the realms?” Tony tugged at Loki’s sleeve and began pulling him towards the living room.

 “Yes. The Nine Realms, they… coexist at the same time on different planes. I imagine you might call it alternate realities, though it is not quite like that. Perhaps you could say they exist in the same place on different wavelengths. Be that as it may”—he curled up in the corner of the couch and Tony made himself comfortable beside him—“there are places where the boundaries between them are blurred. It is possible to cross from one realm to another there. Of course somebody who can walk through the in-between doesn’t need a fixed tunnel…”

“I imagine you can do that?”

Loki nodded.

 Tony pouted. “And you didn’t tell me before. How does it look like? Is it dark? Like the space? Can you get lost? Could you take me with you? I really want to see if it’s anything like… Loki?”

The god’s hands were clenches in fists, his eyes glistening.

“I didn’t even get to see her,” he whispered.

“Your mother?” Tony asked quietly and placed his hand over Loki’s fist.

“I wanted… I would have gone to see her, but I didn’t want to go to Asgard again and… We live so long; there should have been time. I needed time.” He turned towards Tony, eyes pleading. The billionaire nodded.

“I just needed time,” Loki repeated more quietly. “And now she’s gone.”

A tear drew a line down his pale cheek. Tony brushed it away with his thumb. Loki leaned into the touch, and his eyes slid shut. Then, his whole body stiffened, eyes snapping open.

“The funeral,” he whispered and gripped Tony’s forearms. “I forgot to ask. How could I forget?”

“You were shocked.” He was holding it together well as it was.

“No.” Loki shook his head. His grip tightened. “No, how could I forget?! _How_?!”

“Shh…” Tony pried Loki’s fingers apart and pulled the god closer; he could feel the other’s body tremble. “You were shocked. It’s okay. I threw up on a police officer… Admittedly, I may have drunk a beer or two… I took it a lot worse. Not that this is helping you, just, um…”

Loki’s hands moved to Tony’s shoulders, fingers desperately clutching at the fabric, and he pressed himself against Tony. His body shook even worse than before.

“I’ve got you,” Tony murmured as he wound his arms around Loki. “I’ve got you, babe.”

Loki nodded against the man’s shoulder. A strangled sound fought its way free of his throat, and he cried.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

It took a long, long time for Loki to calm down. Tony mostly registered the passage of time as a feeling of hunger that, once formed, refused to go away. It had to be around midday, and he’d skipped breakfast, but he didn’t want to bother Loki, so he let it be.

Until now.

“Hey.” He gently shook Loki’s shoulder. The god was sort of curled up on his lap, legs tucked under him, and more than halfway lying on Tony. He didn’t even move.

“Hmm?”

“I’ll go grab something to eat. You want anything?”

“Nn—nnh.”

“Sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Okay. Come on, let me up.” He pushed at Loki’s shoulders to get the god to roll off him, then dragged himself into the kitchen. He made a sandwich from whatever was at hand, and grabbed a bottle of water and orange juice from the fridge. When he came back, Loki was sitting up with both feet on the floor.

“I’m going to Asgard,” he said, accepting the orange juice Tony offered without a word. He didn’t open it, though.

“That’s…” The right thing to do, probably. People friendly. Saving-Asgard friendly. “Nice of you.”

Loki looked up at him. His eyes were… strange. Not empty, no, but it seemed like all the emotions were separated from the reality by a thick layer of ice.

“I need to see her funeral.”

Tony nodded. He sat down.

Loki finally took a long gulp of juice.

“They always seem to remember I exist only when they need me, either to help them or merely serve as someone to blame.”

Tony wished he could argue against this, but he really couldn’t. He didn’t know nearly enough about what Loki’s life in Asgard had been like, and what he did know had come from Loki with all the biases, prejudice, and pain. Yet, despite knowing that, he took Loki’s side readily. Loki’s pain was real; everything else was a distanced golden kingdom in the sky.

What he didn’t agree with was Loki exposing himself to danger. It wasn’t really his choice, he knew that much, and he had no right to complain (being Iron Man came with a few occupational hazards). But he worried. Loki could be a capable fighter all he wanted to—and he was, too, Tony had been thrown onto his ass enough times to be very aware of that little detail—it didn’t matter. He still didn’t seem completely comfortable with magic, and in the past months, Tony had occasionally found him sitting on the foot of the bed or on the balcony, just staring at his fingers.

"Perhaps. I..." Loki lowered his eyes. "Would you...come with me?"

"To Asgard?" Hadn't Loki said taking somebody through the in between wasn't a good idea? Or was he planning to lead them through a passage?

"Yes, I..." Pleading green eyes turned to him. "Please," Loki said in a small voice. "Please..."

"Yeah." He hadn't been about to refuse. There was no reason to, anyway, and going with the god had a few good sides. First, new data. The scientist part of Tony's brain couldn't resist the offer of new knowledge. He'd been in Asgard before, but it had been very brief, and he hadn't had the opportunity to explore anything. There was also the little matter of intergalactic travel. Most importantly, he'd get to be close to Loki when the latter needed him.

"Sure I'm going with you. When are we leaving? Where's the passage? We are using a passage, right?"

Loki twisted his lower lip between his teeth. Slowly, he gave a single nod.

"Okay. And where can we find it?"

"Central park. The barrier is thin there. Thor chose the spot that time without knowing it, but I think, on some level, he felt it."

"So there’s some spot you can just walk through?" It didn't sound very probable; somebody would have stumbled upon it, and Tony would have probably heard about people disappearing.

"Not exactly, no. It only serves as a door; it still needs to be opened."

Hm. That made more sense. It also made his brain shuffle through the possible explanations for the phenomena. He would have to bother Loki about it sometime later.

"Uh-huh. I'll leave that to you, I suppose. When are we going?"

"Now?"

"You sure? We can take more time if you need it."

Loki shook his head. His eyebrows formed a determined line.

"We're going."

"All right." He wasn't about to oppose. "I'll just get my suit and all that. I guess we'll be gone for a couple of days?"

Loki shrugged.

"Jarvis, if Pepper or Bruce need anything, tell them we've got business in Asgard. Oh, and have them feed the cats. Babe?"

Loki's eyebrows rose just the slightest.

"Try to eat something. And I still want to hear about the whole Aether thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated. 
> 
> Also, I'll try to keep the updates regular, but it's unlikely they will be up more often than every two weeks. Real Life is being a terrible bitch right now. 
> 
> ~shades


	3. Chapter III: Pretty Impressive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony learns intergalactic travelling doesn't always include sightseeing right away, and Loki proves traditional ways of greeting family are overrated.

**Chapter III–Pretty Impressive**

 

_Anamnesis (noun): recollection, especially of a supposed previous existence._

 

Loki felt his heart slamming against his breastbone, and he gripped Tony's hand (he was glad his palms never got sweaty, although the man could probably still tell how nervous he was).

He balled his other hand into a fist to keep it from trembling.

The passage would lead them to the far side of the palace gardens, and they would have to rely on his illusions from then on, but he would rather do that than set foot in the in-between again. His chest ached at that knowledge; there was something so wonderful, some place only he knew, and he was still too terrified from his fall to enter it again. The memory of Thanos burned too strong.

Tony squeezed his hand, and Loki forced the painful thoughts aside.

"You okay, babe?"

He nodded. Took a deep breath—and reached out with his power. Magic bled through his body like a warm, healing liquid. The air around them shimmered for a fraction of a second, long enough to distort the vision of anyone who may have been observing them. Sometimes, it was a necessity; Tony was too well known. Already, rumours about Tony being seen with a man couldn't be stopped, and while Tony didn't seem to mind too much, Loki didn't want to cause him any trouble, nor did he desire it for himself.

Closing his eyes, he let magic swirl around him, searching for the door, knocking on it. The universe parted. He took a deep breath, squeezed Tony's hand—

And pulled them through.

Power touched him, an atmosphere not unlike the in-between. Could Tony sense it, too, on some level?

It was over in but a moment. The park was gone, the trees substituted by a green cage of weeping willows. Water licked his shins. The only thing that remained was his hand in Tony's. And Tony. Always Tony.

"You teleported us into a lake!?"

"Shhh!" Loki hissed. "I didn't _teleport_ us, it's a pond, and yes, we're standing in water. My apologies to your designer shoes."

Tony pouted. "Just sneakers,” he muttered. "Give a man a warning."

"All right..." Sighing, he glanced at the Iron Man suitcase in Tony's other hand and the duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. "Next time. But now you'll do exactly as I say and be quiet unless I tell you otherwise."

Tony flashed him a grin. "Bossy. I like that."

Loki rolled his eyes.

"We need to get into the palace. Unnoticed. Which means you won't squeal when I use glamour on you."

"What gla—"

His mouth remained gaping open when his clothes changed from earthly fashion to the armour of a guard, and the suitcase in his hand to a sword. The duffle bag was suddenly invisible.

"What—how—this is amazing!"

Loki shot him a glare. "Shh!"

"Sorry," Tony mouthed.

"All right. Be careful with that." He nodded towards the sword. "It's _only_ glamour. You're still holding your suit, so don't wave it around too much."

Tony nodded. Loki closed his eyes, telling himself to be calm, and felt glamour distort his exterior as well.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

It was easy to get into the palace. Embarrassingly easy, but then Loki had spent too much time trying to tell both Odin and the Council how unprotected the palace grounds were against magic users; they'd just refused to understand why any civilized person would sneak in in such an underhanded way, and the creatures who would did not possess magical power anyway.

Well, they only needed to look at him now.

Thor's chambers were a little more complicated—unless, of course, one knew when one shift ended and another began, and timed the arrival appropriately. A smooth word or two as a bonus, and the doors were opened for them.

Pathetic.

It had to be too easy to grow lazy and careless if one continued to sit on the glory of days long past.

Loki led the way through the arcade gallery, which was empty of servants at the moment, to the  double doors leading into the more private rooms. He hadn't seen so much gold at once in a long time, but a millennium of walking these corridors had left its mark. They were familiar, known—yet alien and cold.

Without pausing, he pushed the door to the common room open, hoping Thor was there, so he could finally, finally drop the glamour and stop fighting to keep memories at bay.

A broad shouldered figure stood by the open fireplace. Another, slighter, was seated on the cushions. The sound of doors swinging open had Thor turning, a scowl on his face.

"Is anything the matter?" he said. "I don't remember sending for you—"

"That would be because you didn't," Loki snapped and pushed the door shut behind Tony. Glamour bled away from them like so much spilled water.

“Brother!” Thor’s face lit up, and Loki felt anger stir inside him. "You came!"

"Not for you,” he retorted. “I want to see m—Frigga before the funeral."

Thor blinked as if Loki had just said something foolish, then did it again.

"We... already had the funeral."

The world shifted.

They'd already...

And Thor hadn't...

He hadn't...

Red leaked into his vision, and a breath rattled through his chest.

"Bro—"

Before Thor could finish, Loki slammed his fist into the other’s jaw. Eyes wide, Thor stumbled back a step, and then Loki's fist connected with his face again.

"Brother—"

"Don't you dare!" Loki swung his arm again, but this time Thor caught it. Loki brought the elbow of his other arm down on Thor's wrist; it earned him a howl. "Don't you _dare_ ever call me that again! You are not my brother! You are _not_ , and I _don't want you to be!!!_ "

He managed to punch Thor in the face a second time. A moment later, a blow into his sternum made him stagger back.

"Loki," Tony said somewhere behind him, but Loki threw himself at Thor again. How could he not have told him? How could Thor claim they were brothers, yet he didn't care enough to let him know about the funeral? About his mother’s death?

Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised... Why would they want a monster present at the ceremony...?

The woman was saying something in the background in a panicked voice, and he heard Tony's voice, too, but all he could see was Thor's blood where the Thunderer's lip had been split, and skin, skin Loki could hurt and mar. A hand closed around his upper arm, but he shook it off and lunged at Thor again, blinded by anger. A moment later, he was slammed against the wall.

His response was instinctive. Fire bloomed in his hands and danced up to his shoulders where Thor’s grip was holding him captive. He heard a roar, felt the absence of the grip, but it didn’t matter because his body was frozen, fearing pain, expecting pain, and he was sorry, he hadn’t meant to, he really hadn’t meant to—

He blinked. Thor was standing there, panting, and cradling his hands, and staring back, and Tony was there, too, slowly getting closer, and the stone wall behind Loki was solid, and familiar, and _here_.

His heartbeat began to slow down to its regular speed again. Tony came to stand beside him.

“You okay?”

Loki nodded. He was angry, so very angry, and torn inside, feeling as if something had been ripped out of him, but he wasn’t panicking. He had no idea how much of that pang of terror could have been seen on the outside, but Tony had noticed the way he always did. Mostly. Sometimes, he wasn’t there to notice.

Pushing his hair back, he moved from the wall and sat down on one of the couches. He focused on Jane, who was sitting across from him now. At least she’d cared to share the news with him unlike Thor. They did have an agreement: Asgard would leave Loki alone, and Loki would not interfere with their matters. Still, Frigga hadn’t been only their matter… Not completely.

“What is the plan?”

“We go to Svartalfheim. Malekith will get the Aether out of Jane’s body, and I shall attack him,” Thor said from the side.

Not taking his eyes from Jane, Loki asked, “And you think this is going to work?”

“Of course. Why would it not?”

“Funny that.” His lips stretched into a mirthless grin. “You’re not saying anything, yet I keep hearing some noise…”

Jane opened her mouth, then closed it a second later. Tony didn’t say anything, for which Loki was grateful. If anyone were to even attempt to defend Thor right now… He pressed his lips together.

“Miss Foster. Would you care to explain what you plan you have devised?”

She looked from him to Thor and back again, her mouth slightly agape. “I don’t really know much. We wanted to go there and get rid of the Aether…”

Loki resisted the urge to facepalm, as Tony would say.

“Of course that would cause no suspicion whatsoever to arise… You expect to walk to enemy land, practically bringing them what they want on a silver platter, and have no questions asked? Brilliant. Have you considered Malekith could pull the Aether out of your body just as easily if you’re dead?”

“I… No, but I’m not exactly the expert here.” She stared back at him.

“Indeed, you’re not.”

“I’m not, either,” Tony blurted next to Loki. The latter rolled his eyes at his lover.

“What?” Tony raised his hands defensively. “I felt the need to point it out. Sure, I’m a genius, but I wouldn’t want the burden of expectations…”

Loki rolled his eyes again, but with much more affection this time. He turned to Jane again.

“I will think of something. In the meantime, we’ll be in my chambers…”

"Brother..."

He ignored the idiot.

"Tony?"

The man nodded and got up. Loki did, too. A moment later, glamour flickered around them; Loki grit his teeth.

He could do that, there was nobody who would—

"We'll be back," he said in a flat voice and made for the door, only glancing to his side to make sure Tony was there. He led the way out with quick steps, striding through the open arcade hall and out of Thor's chambers, past the guards, away from Thor, away, away. He could feel Tony's presence next to him and longed for contact but couldn't afford to seek it out here, in the corridors.

Finally, he pressed his palms against the door of his own chambers. His _old_ chambers. The place he used to call home for so long.

The doors opened obediently; a soft hum of magic ran through the metallic framework. They passed the doorstep. The glamour bled away, and Loki breathed a heavy sigh. His eyes slid closed. He didn't need to see the pillars leading up to four-centred  arches to know they were there; his skin remembered the texture of stone from the times he used to hide behind them as a small child; his fingers knew the ornate patterns they'd traced so many times; his body knew the two stairs leading down to the centre of the hall; his ears expected to hear the crackling of the fire coming from the torches that nobody had touched for years.

Hands came to rest on his upper arms and a warm body pressed against his back.

"Snowflake..."

He sucked in another breath and leaned into the touch, hungry for the familiarity and comfort.

Tony's arms came around to his front.

"You have a bedroom somewhere in here, or is it all gothic cathedral?"

"This is nothing like the gothic style. You don't have a clue about architecture."

"I could build a house that wouldn't collapse. And pointed arches equal gothic."

"Not _these_ arches. They are not narrow like a cathedral's. Arches alone don't determine the style."

"I know," Tony whispered against Loki's neck. "But it took your mind off other things for a moment. And all this does look pretty impressive."

"In a way, yes." He could see the magnificence of the architecture, the appeal it would hold for the earthly eye, but it was all too familiar, too heavy with memories.

Tony let go and took Loki's hand. "Come on. Let's get some rest."

Loki nodded. He turned left, pushed another door out of the way, and then another, and stopped in the sleeping chamber, gaze sweeping over the canopy master bed, the empty, cold fire place, and his beloved books covering an entire wall. Another one held the door to the balcony running down the whole wing of the palace. There were still papers scattered on the desk, droplets of ink splattered over one of them. A discarded quill lay on the side, exactly where he'd left it before the coronation.

 _The coronation_. He’d barely had the time to breathe after that, or the strength to.

Everything was the way he'd left it. The quilts on the bed. One of his coats thrown over the backrest of the chair. The books on the nightstand, one of them opened.

Only the layer of dust was new.

A sudden pain gripped his chest and forced a strange, strangled sound out of his throat.

Had nobody ever come here? He knew magic prevented just anyone from sneaking in, but his mother? Thor?

If they had left the things untouched, had they dared to hope he might have survived? Thor had said they'd thought him dead, so why? Had nobody even wanted to come here?

"Hey..." Tony was suddenly there, his hand reaching up to Loki's cheek and making a wiping motion as if there were tears there, but there were none.

His body shuddered.

Tony took his hand and slowly, step by step, led him to the bed. Loki followed without protest and allowed himself to be guided down onto the mattress after Tony had pulled the top cover from it. The smell of dust filled Loki’s nose for a moment. He felt numb. A part of his mind registered that Tony was pulling boots from his feet, and he wanted to protest, to say he could do that on his own, but he didn’t want to move. He wasn’t sure he could.

Pathetic.

But then Tony was lying beside him and parting his lips with a kiss, and Loki couldn’t care if he was behaving like a weakling anymore. Tony never cared. He managed to make Loki feel loved, even worthy of that love, although there was a small part buried somewhere deep inside him fearfully counting seconds until Tony would go. It was inevitable. No matter how fast the man came back, his touch couldn’t last forever.

“We need a plan,” he muttered when Tony pulled away.

“You need to sleep.”

He tried shaking his head. “I need to come up with a plan.”

“And you will.” Tony pressed his body against Loki’s side and propped himself on an elbow. “After you get some rest. There will be enough time.”

“Perhaps…”

Tony leaned in again, brushing his lips over Loki’s. The god let himself be kissed while his mind drifted further and further away. Tony’s lips moved to his cheek, and then they were gone, but Loki was too close to sleep to care.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

“My, this looks important.”

Thor glanced around the table where his friends were seated. His gaze lingered on Fandral.

“It is important. I am taking Jane to Svartalfheim at nightfall.

Sif, forearms resting on the table, leaned forward. “Has the Allfather changed his mind?”

Thor shook his head. “Loki has agreed to help me.”

“Wasn’t he banished?” Volstagg spoke from the side.

“Aye.” Thor glanced at his hands. He didn’t know what Loki’s status was at the moment, but surely he must have had some sort of agreement with their father. Odin was not in the habit of crying for no reason, though what had caused those tears to appear, Thor had yet to find out. The lack of trust stung.

 “Are you mad?! He will stab you in the back the first chance he gets!”

Thor returned Sif’s gaze. “No, he won’t.”

“And what have you promised him to be so sure?”

A pang of guilt went through his chest. He hadn’t even thanked Loki. It was true that Loki had attacked him upon his arrival, but Thor still owed him gratefulness. Loki’s rage burned him. Thor had been planning to inform Loki of their mother’s death, but what would another day or two had been? Frigga would still be dead, whereas a day or two could determine whether Jane lived or died. The funeral had come and gone as well. There really would not have been a difference if he’d told Loki later.

“He is here because he chose to be. I know he won’t betray me.” Not with Man of Iron around.

“You trust him too much,” Hogun said, then turned to Heimdall. “Is it not your job to report any trespassers?”

The Watchman inclined his head just the slightest. “You know not what I see or hear. If I’d seen Loki in Asgard, I would have to report it, yes.”

“Enough about that,” Thor said. “I’m asking you to help me. All of you. It may not be necessary, but it also might.”

Silence settled over them for a moment, heavy with anticipation.

Sif leaned forward. “What do we need to do?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A huge thank to everyone who's read/reviewed/favourited/etc. this story so far. I hope you're all doing great. Stay awesome. 
> 
> (And maybe drop a review, yes?)
> 
> ~shades


	4. Chapter IV: So Much Darkness in Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge burns. Tony is not very fond of closed doors. Perhaps visiting foreign realms is not the best hobby one can have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just want to thank anyone who's been reading, reviewing, etc. this so far. A huge thanks goes to my beta, too.

**Chapter IV—So Much Darkness in Space**

_Tenebrosity (noun): the quality of being dark or shadowy._

 

Tony, wind ruffling his hair, did not like the situation at all. For one, he was stuck on a flying boat with no apparent engine. He'd seen enough magic by now to not completely ruin his brain by trying to scientifically explain it, but it bothered him nonetheless. In fact, it bothered him almost as much as their plan.

Things had gone ridiculously easy up to that point. Thor hadn't mentioned if he'd needed any help from his friends at all, but he had brought the boat (flying or not, Tony refused to call it anything else) with no guards trailing behind him, and so far, the flight had been smooth.

That was, not counting the tension between them.

Loki was standing at the rudder, tall and silent, looking formidable in his Aesir clothing again. Tony's gaze lingered on the collar framing the pale column of Loki's neck and the skin-tight leather hugging his thighs. Naturally, the stupid cloak had to cover Loki's behind. Perhaps it was for the best; now was not the time for wanting those legs wrapped around his waist. Not that Tony wouldn't much rather be having sex than flying into battle, and one where he was supposed to be invisible no less. Loki had assured him he could do it, and there was nothing for Tony to do but trust him, hoping their plan would work.

Jane wasn't looking very good. She'd collapsed almost the moment they'd started from the palace and was now sitting at the back of the boat, wrapped in Thor's cape, said god beside her.

Nobody spoke. Tony was almost tempted to put the suit’s helmet on so he could chat with Jarvis to escape the silence, which would probably make the others think he was even weirder than he was. Well, Loki pretty much knew already.

The billionaire was still secretly glad Jarvis could function here, too. He was limited to the suit, no communication or internet access, but at least Tony wouldn't have to control the suit manually. That would have been a nuisance.

"Brother, are you mad?"

Tony's gaze snapped to Thor and then followed the way the god’s line of sight. His eyes widened just the slightest. They were heading towards a wall of stone much too fast.

"Loki?"

"Trust me," was the only reply.

It was better than the nothing Thor had got.

It was enough.

But Tony still closed his eyes.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

His grip on Jane’s arm was harsh. It had less to do with any desire to harm her and almost everything with the strain of holding things together. True invisibility was hard; maintaining an illusion less so. If he turned, he could see Tony and Thor following at a distance—his eyes did not need to be fooled by the illusion of landscape.

Impatience stirring inside of him, he stopped and yanked Jane closer.

“Malekith!”

As if he wasn’t close already. But he could pretend he didn’t know—after all, had he not heard it from Thor, he would have had no way of knowing the elf could sense the Aether—and then yelling would seem completely reasonable. To a degree. Thor would certainly do it.

Perhaps Loki shouldn’t have.

His booted toes hit the barren earth. Jane muttered something beside him, but he ignored her and focused on breathing instead. It was only magic. If things went well, it would be the only magic he would have to do.

The thought left a bitter aftertaste. He could handle magic; he could simply not enjoy it any longer.

As if his shout had been heard, a battleship shimmered into existence on the horizon, headed their way. Good. He had an extra snippet of time to prepare. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his chin and let his gaze pierce the approaching ship.

It was a large vessel, shaped differently than any he had seen even during his fall, high and narrow. The endless height of its body didn’t seem very practical. The invisibility, on the other hand, fascinated a part of his mind beyond belief. The ship landed, digging itself into the earth, and the dark exterior parted. Dark, silent figures spilled out of the gap and parted to allow two of them to pass; they had to be Malekith and his henchmen.

Loki’s fingers twitched with the desire to call forth a knife and end this, stab the life right out of the Dark Elf and the creature with horns and skin so much like wood at his side.

 _His mother’s killer_.

Keeping his face carefully blank, he strode forward and practically threw Jane onto the ground; a groan escaped her lips.

“I am Loki—” but not of Asgard, not anymore, and not of Jotunheim, either; Tony’s, if he had to belong anywhere “—and I bring you a gift!” His foot connected with Jane’s side; the force threw her onto her back, but Loki didn’t let his gaze linger. His focus was on the two… Elves… in front of him.

“Word has come to me that you seek this.”

Malekith’s pale eyes narrowed.

“Am I to assume you have brought her to me and risked Asgard’s wrath out of the goodness of your heart?”

A mirthless laughter passed Loki’s lips.

“I do not have a heart.” But he did. For Tony, he did. “No, what I ask in return is a chance to watch Asgard burn to the ground. I trust that should not present a problem?” A sneer danced on his lips while his own words echoed in his ears.

Tony was hearing this.

Tonywas hearing him talk this way.

“Hmm…” Slowly, in a manner of a predator, Malekith stalked around the Trickster. Loki resisted the urge to follow the movement with his gaze and forced his posture to stay relaxed.

“Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t.” He glanced at Jane, who was lying in a heap on the ground. Her time was running out. “But we have a common enemy.”

“Indeed…” The Elf came to a stop in front of Jane. His watery blue eyes met Loki’s gaze. “I accept.”

The god swallowed a sigh of relief and forced his mouth into a grin. Clasping his hands behind his back, he readjusted his grip on the spell and tried not to think about it at the same time. Finally, finally, Malekith turned his attention to the woman, grabbing her jaw with one hand. Then, he let her fall, but only for so long; taking a few steps backwards, he raised both arms, and following the motion, Jane’s body lifted off the ground. Her mouth fell open, her hair spilled down her shoulders—then Loki backed away as well, and her face disappeared from his vision field. Wind caught her clothes and ruffled his hair—there had been no wind in space—and he instinctively reached to the side with his hand, searching for someone he knew wasn’t there. Just a bit longer—

Dark red particles swarmed the air like bees, but where was Thor, _where was Thor_ —

Jane collapsed back onto the ground. A moment later, lighting came rushing down from the sky. Loki’s gaze shot around; he couldn’t see Tony, but Thor’s woman was right there, too close, and he threw himself at her with enough force to send them both sliding over the dirt away from the blinding light.

A hiss fell from his lips as his shoulder hit the ground and dull pain blossomed in it. Ignoring it, he crouched, body tense with expectation, and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.

Malekith was still standing, the Aether still floating menacingly, if such a thing was even possible. Thor’s grip tightened around Mjolnir’s handle. Tony was standing further away, arm stretched out and ready to fire. Jane was still breathing.

As if caught in slow motion (the way those earthly movies were wont to show movement so often), Malekith spread his arms, chest pushed forward, and the Aether stirred. The master called; the servant answered. For a moment, the redness preserved its undefined form. Then, it rushed to Malekith’s chest—into his chest—and Loki swallowed a curse. Possibilities flitted through his mind. Fight or flight. They had a helpless person with them. But there was Thor. And the henchman. _The henchman_.

Lightning burst from the sky once again, but it did no good; it bounced off the Aether helplessly, and before Loki could even blink, Thor was rolling over the dirty ground.

Blades appeared in Loki’s hands, called forth from his pocket of space. One of them sank into a Dark Elf’s neck with deadly precision, the other would have hit Malekith’s forehead if it wasn’t for the Aether. A wave of force slammed into Loki’s chest, knocking the breath out of him, then there was a hand squeezing his neck. Pale blue eyes bored into his.

He couldn’t breathe.

“You will have Asgard burn,” the Elf hissed. “And you may watch while you burn with it, little godling.”

_Don’t call me that._

The hand pulled up.

_Don’t you dare call me that._

Fire exploded from Loki’s hands, hissing and happily lapping at the other’s clothes and skin. With a sharp hiss, Malekith let go. Gasping, Loki watched him retreat and stop only to relay something to his henchman before he disappeared back into his ship.

Was he so confident the others would kill them? Or was he kindly allowing them to return to Asgard and report their failure?

Low.

Not that Loki cared too much. He was here for revenge and partly to save Jane’s life, both of which could still be achieved.

If only Thor hadn’t launched himself at the henchman. They rolled a couple of times, and then Loki couldn’t watch anymore because of the soldiers that surrounded him and Jane. Naturally, it wasn’t Thor who stood beside her to protect her.

It didn’t matter to him if his fighting had less of its usual elegance and more of the brutal, ugly striking this time. There was a sickening crack when his elbow connected with an Elf’s face, but his attention didn’t linger. A familiar beam of light went past his head and hit its target in the chest, and Loki turned to give Tony a short nod. He wanted to smile, too, but something caught his eye; a movement, a disturbance in the air. His expression must have told Tony to react since the man flew away from the spot—good, that was good, Tony wasn’t in danger—and Loki yanked Jane up and pushed her away, ready to run himself even as an invisible force pulled him off his feet, and _no, no, no, nononono—_

Metal fingers closed around his wrist and pulled him away. Breath caught in his throat, but he was alive. Wrapped in Tony’s arms some feet above the ground and alive. With an exhausted sigh, he leaned his forehead onto the cold metal of the armour.

“Thank you…”

“You okay?”

 “I will be.” He lifted his head and swept the ground with his gaze. It was strangely satisfying to see Thor thrown around like a puppet. Nevertheless, he couldn’t let anything serious happen to the oaf; who else would be blamed but Loki?

“Protect Jane and kill the rest,” he said. “I’ll save Thor’s skin. Now drop me.”

“But we’re—”

“Drop me.”

Tony obliged. Barely a moment passed before Loki’s feet connected with the ground. He rolled over his shoulder into a crouch, then pushed himself forward and sprinted. He jumped over the body of a fallen Elf—and stopped.

Their force fields.

There.

He snatched the capsule from the body’s belt, grabbed the discarded blade, and dashed forward again. Damn Thor. Such a competent fighter he was supposed to be, yet he was thrown around like a fishing boat on stormy sea.

He was not allowed to die today.

And the henchman was destined to.

The blade pierced the monster’s chest. Loki’s hand slid to its waist and tucked the capsule in a rift between the leather armour pieces.

There were two surprised sounds, but he cared about neither. An ugly grin stretched across his face.

“That’s for my mo—”

His voice failed.

His eyes grew wide. His breathing caught.

A dagger was sticking out of his chest just below the left clavicle.

It _burnt_.

A gasp parted his lips, and his legs gave way, but the ground didn’t seem as hard as before. His vision blurred.

 _Poison_ , a distant part of his mind whispered.

It burnt. Burnt like acid forced down his throat, or poured over fresh wounds. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t breathe— _it burnt—no more, please, no more, PLEASE!!!—_ but they wouldn’t listen, they never listened— _it BURNT—_

“Loki!”

Hands on his shoulders, forcing him down, but he had to get away, had to fight—

A change swept over his body— _no, no, he wasn’t supposed—they couldn’t know_ — _they’d_ —

“LOKI!”

Tony.

Tony’s voice.

They couldn’t see. He would deal with everything else later, they couldn’t see him—

Magic bled over his skin. Then, his eyes snapped open, taking in the grey sky and Thor, who fell onto his knees at his side, and then there was Tony, visor opened and hands reaching out, bare hands reaching for his face—

“Don’t touch me!”

He couldn’t hurt Tony again. He was a monster, and no glamour could change it; he could feel it, even through the burn, the shift in the temperatures, the feeling of being stuck in a body that was not his own.

“It’s me, Loki, it’s me! It’s okay!”

Tony reached for his face again, and couldn’t he understand—

 “Don’t touch me! Please, please, I don’t want to hurt you, don’t touch me—”

“You won’t hurt me. Loki, calm down.”

He didn’t understand! “No! I’ll hurt you! It’s a glamour, Tony, it’s _just a glamour!_ ”

Something that might have been understanding dawned in Tony’s eyes. Loki couldn’t be sure; his vision refused to sharpen no matter how much he blinked.

“You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

And then there were hands on his cheeks, and Tony wasn’t screaming, wasn’t pulling away—how?

How…

He tried to ask but only a strange strangled sound came from his throat. His chest felt too tight, his torso was on fire, and his vision was turning black—

How…?

Somebody was shouting something. Tony? Was Tony…?

His lips moved a bit, and perhaps something even managed to get out. Perhaps.

The world was fading to black. He wanted to see Tony again, but there wasn’t anything left, only darkness—the space—so much darkness in space…

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

“No! Loki, no!” He shook his head, desperately pressing down on the wound. It was just a little stab wound, just a stupid injury, _it shouldn’t be that bad._

It was strange, feeling warm blood under one hand and cold skin under the other. Jotnar skin. He could feel the ridges, the curving lines, even though he couldn’t see them. How it happened that his skin wasn’t turning black with frostbite, he didn’t know, but he was holding Loki, and the only thing that hurt was his chest.

“We have to get out of here.” He glanced over his shoulder at Thor—and frowned at the god’s gaping mouth and wide eyes filled with something... dark. “Thor?”

The Thunderer’s frown deepened and he leaned away.

“Thor?”

“Loki...” Thor pressed his lips together as if the word had left a bad taste on them that needed to be rubbed off. “He’s...”

Tony’s head snapped back to his lover.

Blue skin.

Of course.

“Yeah. Come on, we need to get back to Asgard. He needs healers.”

Thor shook his head. “But he’s a...”

Swallowing the anger, Tony cradled Loki in his arms. “Heimdall!” he shouted. “Heimdall! We need the Bifrost!”

This had to work. It didn’t matter if they got in trouble—they already were. And Loki needed help. There was no way they were getting back they way they came here.

“Stark, we’re not supposed to—”

“You think Loki can get us back?! You think I’d rather see him die than get us in trouble?! And fuck, stop staring at him as if he’s something repulsive! He’s your brother!”

“I am not—very well.” Thor’s face was a storm given shape, but he got up and turned to where Jane had been before just as she staggered to him.

Tony’s gaze returned to Loki. He pushed a strand of hair away from his face. “Hang in there, babe. We’ll get you help.”

Loki didn’t even move. Tony bit back a curse.

“Heimdall! Please!!!”

He probably didn’t have the right to ask. Born in the wrong realm or something. And would it kill Thor to call for their Watchman, too? Would it kill Thor to be helpful? Surely Loki’s skin colour wasn’t the most important thing right now—

Ah. So maybe Thor _was_ calling Heimdall. Okay. Okay. Calm down, Tony. Loki was going to be okay.

Moments later, blinding light enveloped them. Tony pulled Loki even closer. Air was knocked out of his lungs, and his skin felt too tight. His stomach rebelled. But when his knees hit solid ground again, Loki was still in his arms.

The next thing he saw were somebody’s legs. Heimdall’s legs.

“Hi. Thanks for pulling us out of—”

The sound of hooves made him look up just in time to see a magnificent stallion come to a halt. A stallion with eight legs.

So the story was true?

He didn’t really have time to think about that now. Odin dismounted, took the scene in with a sweep of his gaze, and crouched in front of Tony. His hand came to rest on Loki’s forehead. A moment later, pale pink bled over the blue, and Tony noticed a blood stain on Loki’s cheek. He lifted his hand to wipe it off—

And realized the lines on Loki’s face were not a play of light. They were scars. Curves residing where there had been the slight ridges before. Pinpricks scattered around his lips.

Tony’s chest constricted. He’d seen Loki in bad situations before, but the scars had never been visible before, not even when the Trickster had come too close to madness for comfort. He considered pointing that out, but Odin had already straightened.

“Thor, get her to the healers. We will have words later.” Then, his eye focused on Tony. “You can fly, can you not? Follow me.”

“But Loki—”

“We are going to the healing rooms. Follow me.”

Douchebag. But it was what Tony wanted (although carrying somebody while flying wasn’t his favourite thing to do), so he nodded and got up, Loki still in his arms.

Thor probably looked much more elegant flying with Jane. Not that Tony cared right now. And if somebody saw him, he’d probably win the Most Awkward Flight of the Year Award, but there was nobody on the Bifrost. Streets were mostly empty, too, due to darkness, though the closer to the palace they got, the more people there were. Luckily, they scattered out of the way; Odin wasn’t exactly riding in a relaxed trot.

They came to a momentary stop at the end of a wide promenade, Odin giving the reins over to one of the guards who were stationed at both sides.

“Follow me, Man of Iron,” he said without pausing to see if his words would be obeyed; Tony hurried after him. His steps echoed, metal hitting stone. One walk through endless, seemingly identical corridors later, they finally entered a circular room surrounded by pillars between which doors to some unknown places resided. More bronze-golden rooms, Tony guessed. A few women were hurrying around; they stopped almost at once. Respect was their first reaction—respect to their monarch. Then, their focus shifted, and although Tony could feel the weight of their gazes, he knew they were not looking at him. Watching their closed-off expressions, he swallowed.

At last one of them, a young, blond woman, stepped forward. She was a pretty sight, and once upon a time, Tony would have cared.

She bowed her head. “Allfather.”

“You will take care of him and treat him to best of your ability,” Odin said sternly. “Bring Eir to me.”

The woman nodded. She said something to one of her companions and inclined her head to the side, gesturing for Tony to follow her through one of the doors.  Fabric pooled around her legs as she walked, and Tony caught a glimpse of boots.

“Put him down,” she said. Seeing as there was only something that looked like a glowing examination table in the room, the command was perfectly clear. Tony barely had the time to let go of Loki (not that he wanted to) before a small group of people spilled into the room: Odin, a middle-aged woman with an air of sternness about her, and two more healers.  Finally, Thor poked his head through the door, and somebody was telling Tony to go wait outside as if he didn’t belong here, didn’t belong with _his_ Loki, but Thor got sent out as well, so perhaps it was a work thing rather than something personal. It didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Sighing, he leaned against the nearest pillar.

“How’s Jane?”

Thor turned to him. “She will be all right after some rest. They say her body is exhausted.”

Tony nodded. Good for her. Good for Thor. Thor, whose gaze kept flitting from Tony to the door and back to Tony again, then finally to his hands clasped in front of him that refused to stay still.

“Say… Friend Stark…”

“Yeah?”

“You knew about Loki…”

His eyebrows arched. “Yes.”

“Oh.” Thor’s face fell. There was something strange in his eyes. “He told you?”

“Not exactly. It was more of an accident. Why?”

“And it did not… It does not bother you?”

He shook his head. Sure, it was strange, but Loki was still Loki, and there was something fascinating about it. He’d been contemplating asking Loki to show his Jotnar form again, but with all the memories connected to it… He hadn’t.

Thor rubbed his forehead. “Father told me about it, but when I saw Loki…”

Ah. Confrontations with reality.

“He looks… He looks like _them_.”

A frown twisted his brow. “Well, what were you expecting?”

Thor shrugged. “He is _Loki_. I thought…” He shook his head. “I suppose I’m not a very good brother.”

Tony crossed his arms on his chest. “If you’re hoping to hear a reassurance about how you’re a great brother, go ask someone else. I can’t give it to you right now.” A pause. “What the hell were you thinking, not telling Loki about his mum?”

“Another day wouldn’t bring her back from the dead.”

“And the funeral?! What of that?!”

“We are at war!”

“You are _not_ at war! I don’t see any fighting around here, only someone who was too selfish to see anyone but his girlfriend!”

“Enough!” Thor roared. “I protected Asgard! Taking Jane away was for the good of all of us! _You_ are the selfish one here!”

“Me?! Why, because I’m the only one who—”

The door opened and the blond woman appeared.

“Boys,” she said, which should have been kind of funny because Tony at least _looked_ older than her (not that it meant much), and Thor was the crown prince, but none of them laughed. “Be quiet. If you cannot, I would suggest you remove yourself from this place. We are trying to work.”

Work. Right. Loki.

“Will he be okay?” Tony asked.

She looked at him as if she was trying to find all the answers to her questions on his face. “Yes,” she said curtly. “No more shouting,” she added and disappeared back into the room.

Tony stared after her. Loki was on the other side of this door. What if he needed support? What if wasn’t going to be fine after all?

“Hlin,” Thor said, and the inventor twitched. Good thing it couldn’t be really seen in the suit.

“Bless you?”

“No, Hlin. She was friends with Mother…”

Oh, the healer. “Mm-hmm.” That didn’t tell him very much. “Why’s your dad allowed to be in there and we are not?”

Admittedly, not the smartest question ever what with Odin being the king and all. But knowing the answer didn’t mean the sense of unfairness could be chased out if Tony’s mind. He glanced around, then stepped to the door and pressed his ear against it in hopes of catching at least bits of conversation, but there was nothing.

“It won’t work,” Thor said. “Sounds don’t go through.”

Scowling, Tony backed away and sat down on the floor, back against the wall. “Your plan failed,” he remarked.

Thor’s lips formed a straight line. “Yes.” He turned to Tony.  “There will be war now. You will see warriors fight.”

The sigh that left Tony’s lips was filled with weariness to the point of spilling. “I don’t _want_ a war. That’s your culture’s hobby, not mine. All I want is to go home and take Loki away from this madness.”

“He chose to come here, did he not?”

Tony snorted. “Of course he did.” Loki had wanted to say goodbye to his mother. Though perhaps… He’d fought for others before. Protected worlds that weren’t his. Selfish reasons or not, his blood had been shed, and the lives of others went on as if nothing had happened. Because nothing had happened. Not to them.

The inventor sighed.  “It’s what he does.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review ;)
> 
> ~shades


	5. Chapter V: Could Very Well Be a Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asgard has strange confession times. Tony wants Loki’s bedroom. Loki doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so terribly sorry for the long wait. It was just [insert excuses here]. I promise next chapter will be up faster, and I'm really hoping this won't happen again.
> 
> I'm also looking for a beta, if anyone would be interested... You'd have my eternal gratitude.

**Chapter V–Could Very Well Be a Lie**

 

 

_Separation (noun): the action or state of moving or being moved apart._

 

Fire.

They liked fire.

His skin didn’t agree with it.

Nor did his insides.

But there was so much fire everywhere, an inferno of agony, and how, _how_ did they manage to catch the burning of fire into a bottle so skilfully, so exactly that he would swear he could feel the tickling of flames if every sensation wasn’t drowned in the pain of never-ending torture—

Perhaps if he stopped breathing, cut off the supply of oxygen, starve the flames to death—

It was worth a try.

A try.

What was a try?

Could he stop?

Would the pain stop? _Could_ the pain stop? Was there a limit, an end, a beginning? Was it not eternity he was caught into, desolation of a void so enormous it could never be filled?

He couldn’t think.

Funny, was it not? Always so careful not to push too far—did they make a mistake? At last?

Would his essence be eaten away by fire, become fire, and burn down everything and forever?

He needed to stop breathing.

Why? Why would he need…?

_I forgot_.

He didn’t need—

Did he—

_Just stop._

There was sweetness in pain, somebody had once said. This pain was rotten with sweetness, overwhelming, poisonous sweetness…

_I should stop._

Stop breathing.

Could you stop in eternity…?

 

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Thor had left, and Tony’s body was starting to grow very uncomfortable in the suit when the cursed door finally swung open. Rubbing his tired eyes, he shifted.

“I should have known you would be here.”

He lifted his gaze to Odin’s face, criss-crossed by tired lines. “Yes. You should have.”

The king frowned. “There are many things you allow yourself, Man of Iron, but someday, you shall go too far.”

“What can I say—I have a blatant disregard for authority.” He shrugged but got to his feet nonetheless.

Something dark passed Odin’s face, and for a moment, Tony feared he had really crossed the line, but then the shadow was replaced by an expression of world-weariness, and he let out a breath.

“You and Loki both.”

Tony nodded. When he spoke again, his tone was much more agreeable. “Can I see him?”

“He is sleeping.”

Was that a yes or a no? Because Tony was very much willing to understand everything as a yes; even a no could potentially be interpreted as a very reluctant yes in the Tony-speak.

A heavy sigh passed the monarch’s lips and he turned away. “I should have known Loki would be involved in this.”

That was a lot of should-have-knowns, and was it confession hour? Tony didn’t have a therapist licence, and last time he checked, he and Odin weren’t exactly best buddies.

“You could have just let Thor use the Bifrost.” But then that creature would have probably killed him, since there would have been no Loki to save the day.

 “I could have. I chose not to.”

“Because you were hoping Jane would die and Thor would move on.”

Odin turned again, eye meeting Tony’s gaze. “I have a kingdom to think about,” he said abruptly. “A kingdom that needs an heir and a future queen. Of course I forbade him to go.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He knew why Thor had done what he had done, and now that he wasn’t seething with anger anymore, he could see how it had been a good thing for Asgard, too. Still, he wasn’t prepared to play Thor’s advocate just yet. Or ever. The Thunderer could speak for himself.

“I didn’t think he would go to Loki right away, nor that he would manage to persuade him.”

Definitely confession time. It was official, and still not making sense, except perhaps it was. As far as Tony knew, Loki’s situation was a private affair; Odin couldn’t really talk about to it anyone, not with his wife dead. There was Thor, but even Thor didn’t seem to be informed, so that left Tony. Which was kind of sad, now that he thought about it.

“He didn’t.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He didn’t persuade Loki.”

Odin’s brow furrowed, and a spark of interest lit up his eye.

“Jane paid us a visit, told us what happened. Loki came for revenge.”

“Hmm.” Odin clasped his hands behind his back, made a few steps in one direction, then back again.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Tony said suddenly.

“We had an agreement.”

“And agreement? About what? Not telling Loki the one person he considered family died? That was a great agreement, really. You would let Loki think his mother was still alive for years to come? And then what? When he decided to come back? When—”

_When I died?_

Odin regarded him in silence. “No,” he said finally. “I would have told him.”

Tony held back a snort. It was easy to forget who Odin was when his aura of imposingness wasn’t turned on and Tony was mad.

“Why not now?”

Another pause. He saw Odin’s chest lift with a heavy breath.

“You must understand, Tony Stark…” That eye bore into him. “No parent finds it simple to face their children’s anger, especially when it is justified.”

Tony blinked, then did it again. Odin afraid of Loki’s anger? It had to be bullshit.

His eyes narrowed. “You thought he’d blame you for Frigga’s death.”

“He blames me for great many things. Some of his misdeeds can be traced back to me. I have done wrong, and yet I have seen him suffer for the right thing.”

That… was a pretty lame excuse. Not that Tony didn’t know what  wanting to avoid anger was like, but there was always a line.

_Coward,_ hung at the tip of his tongue. He pressed his lips together.

“And the funeral? He wanted to see that.”

Odin’s eye narrowed a bit. “As far as Asgard knows, Loki is still banished.”

“What about now?”

“You are here as Thor’s guest.”

“And Loki? You’re not throwing him out, are you? _Are_ you?”

After a moment, Odin shook his head. The next breath felt a bit easier to take.

“Can I see him now?”

“Yes. You may go.”

May go?

Right. Kings. Pff, Tony definitely had problems with authority.

“Um, thank you?”

He didn’t wait for any other words that could follow. Instead, he turned and finally, finally got to open that damn door. It slid away soundlessly, forming a contrast to his steps.

Loki was sitting on the table, shirtless and slumped forward. His skin was about as pale as the towel (was that a towel?) that hung around his shoulders. Strands of hair clung to his skin, soaked with sweat. Two women were still around, the blond one—Hlin, was it?—and the stern one. They looked up when Tony entered, one a bit more surprised than the other, but said nothing. Hlin said something to Loki that was too quiet for Tony to hear, and then the two healers made their way to the door. Apparently, they were allowed to pretend he didn’t exist. Fine with him. It wasn’t like he craved anybody’s attention here. Only, Hlin stopped just for a moment when they were face to face, gave a slight nod, and said, “Anthony Stark,” but left before Tony could ask anything. How did she even know his name?

Not important. Loki mattered right now.

“Hey.”

The god looked up with the most minute of smiles on his face, but tired, oh so tired. Tony let the suit open and stepped out—he hadn’t wanted an audience for that, thank you very much. The less people knew what his suits could do, the better. Let Asgard think it was just a shiny armour.

Closing the distance, he came to stand between Loki’s knees. Loki leaned his forehead against him.

“You okay, snowflake?”

A nod that Tony felt more than saw as he wrapped his arms around the god’s back.

“Odin said you were sleeping.”

“I was.”

Tony nodded even though no one could see it. Silence settled around them with the elegance of a feline. Then,

“The dagger was poisoned. It felt like acid.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry. But they fixed you, didn’t they?” Gently, he pushed Loki away and brushed the towel off his shoulders. The skin underneath was smooth; no sign of stab wounds or other injuries, but it could very well be a lie. The scars on Loki’s face were no longer visible, yet that didn’t mean they were gone.

“Yes.”

“ Babe?” He caressed Loki’s jawline with his knuckles. “Will you let me see your scars sometime?”

“Perhaps. I… I’m so tired, Tony…”

“Okay. Can you magic us to your room?”

“I’m tired…” Loki slurred, sagging against Tony.

Huh. He would have to think of another way to get there, then. The problem was, Tony had no idea where Loki’s rooms were, and he really didn’t want to carry the god through the entire palace where everyone could see.

“Here.” He helped Loki lie down again. “I’ll go ask someone about the rooms, okay?”

The reply was too slurred to be understood, so Tony took it as an agreement and slipped out of the room—

Only to almost crash into Jane. Or Thor. Or both. They were standing right next to each other and must have been about to enter the room. Good for them that the door opened inwards…

“Oh, hey, Big Guy. Great timing. Any chance you could get us to Loki’s room? And make some food appear from somewhere? I think I deserved food. Double cheese pizza. You don’t have those, do you?”

“No, we do not. Come, friend Stark, I will show you to your room.”

He threw a glance over his shoulder. “My room? I have a room?”

“There are rooms for guests.”

“Not Loki’s? Why not Loki’s? Is he not allowed to leave yet?”

Thor frowned. “You are here as my guest.”

“Yeah, that’s what your dad said. What now, I’m not supposed to be seen around Loki?”

“Stark, people would talk if they saw you entering or leaving his rooms.”

“So?” he challenged. “He’s my lover.”

“He is a criminal!”

Tony fixed him with a glare. “So are you. So am I.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed. “You take everything I say as an attack.”

“Maybe because it sounds like that.”

“Oh, cut it out!” Jane put a hand on Thor’s biceps, and her gaze bore into Tony. “Thor, stop accusing, Tony, stop being on the defensive all the time. We should get some sleep.”

Thor nodded. “You will spend the night in the guest rooms, friend Stark. Loki’s situation is uncertain still.”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. He could always sneak out at night.

_Or not_ , he thought later when he followed Thor and Jane through the corridors, armour-suitcase in his hand. There was no way he wouldn’t get lost in here.

So far, he really wasn’t a huge fan of Asgard.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Loki woke up gasping, drenched in cold sweat, and fighting remnants of phantom pain gripping his body. His hand shot up to his throat and he rolled the tongue around his mouth, just to make sure it was still there…

His eyes searched for Tony, but the darkness of the room was only penetrated by gentle starlight spilling in through the windows; the familiar glow of the arc reactor was absent. Loki was back in his room, apparently having been unceremoniously dumped on top of the bed, but where was Tony? Had something happened to him? Loki needed the man, and _why wasn’t he here?_

Breathing escalating, he climbed off the bed, ignoring the pain pulsing in his head. The soles of his boots hit the stone; whoever had brought him here didn’t even care enough to take them off. It was hardly surprising.

He dragged himself to the door, pushed at it—

Nothing.

He pushed stronger, and still the door did not give in.

Was he a prisoner now?  Why? He was not supposed to be in Asgard, that much was true, but it was only an agreement keeping him out, no longer banishment. Unless… Odin would twist it all again, blame him for letting the Aether fall into Malekith’s hands. He had saved Thor—did that account for nothing? The same way it never had before?

Then suddenly, panic rose inside him. If he was locked in here, what had they done with Tony? If they’d hurt him… If they’d hurt his Tony…

The burst of magic stemmed from rage as much as from panic. It threw the door off the hinges but did nothing to lessen either of the feelings. He needed Tony.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

He didn’t understand. Why would he cry now? What was there to cry about? He had his powers. He could find Tony and get them away from here.

Yet he found himself leaning against the wall by the doorframe, back pressed against the cold stone. His eyes only watered more when he let them wander about the room, and a knot of pain tightened in his chest. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything.

Tony always told him to breathe.

He pressed a hand to his forehead and forced himself to suck in a breath. As long as he kept breathing, he should be fine. Purposefully, he pushed all thoughts out of his mind and slowly straightened. He tried to ignore the room, the dust that had settled over everything that had ever been precious to him.

His mother...

The sudden sound of footsteps made him snap out of the daze. His muscles tightened, senses sharpened.

His fingers twitched.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you thought.
> 
> ~shades


	6. Chapter VI: Defeated the Fould

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark insists touching his bed is extremely rude. Perhaps that's why he gets lousy tour guides.

**Chapter VI—Defeated the Foul**

 

_Heinous (adjective): utterly odious or wicked._

 

"Tony."

He blinked at the crowd and shrugged to shake the intruding hand from his shoulder. "'m not givin' interviews..."

"Tony!" a voice hissed. He blinked again, and this time, the crowd dissolved, leaving a single face behind.

"You're not a journalist..." he slurred.

Loki pursed his lips. "No, I am not. Were you dreaming a _press conference_?"

"No. A bunch of persistent journalists..." Yawning, he rubbed his eyes. The room was dark but for a torch near to the bed. It was still night. "They didn't let me stay in your room. I think they were worried about my virtue..."

Loki's lips twitched into a smile, then curled downwards again. He found Tony's hand and locked their fingers together. "Maybe they were. Just not in the sense you mean."

"I don't think I like Asgard very much." He scooted away and held the blanket up, inviting Loki to join him. Which the god did, in a way; he took his boots off and lay down on top of the covers.

"How come you're here?"

Loki stared at him for a moment, thoughts flashing behind his eyes.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Mhm." Tony wrapped a strand of black hair around his finger. "You look wrecked. Are you okay?"

"Marvelous. Splendid. Wonderful. Take your pick."

He buried his fingers into Loki's hair. "You're not in pain, are you?"

"No."

The torch flickered slightly, making shadows dance over the walls, the bed, Loki's face.

"There's going to be a war, right?"

Loki turned at that, torchlight making his expression look as if it were carved out of stone.

"There already is. The question is: do we keep fighting?"

"Is it our war?" Had killing the henchman been enough of a revenge?

"Not yours."

"If it's yours, it's mine, too. So, is it?"

Loki closed his eyes and laid his cheek on Tony's chest. "Perhaps. Odin is trying to make it so."

"You talked to him?"

"Yes. You are to be introduced to the court in the afternoon as Thor's shield brother. Odin is officially ending my banishment."

"That sounds nice enough."

"You'd still do well to avoid being seen with me too much. I'm not liked around here."

"I'm not going to pretend I don't know you."

Loki lifted his head and caught Tony's gaze. "I wouldn't want you to. But intimacy is out of question."

"In public?"

"In public."

"Good." The inventor began drawing an arc reactor on Loki's cheek with his finger. "Why does Odin want you to be involved in the war? You've got a way to kick the Elves' asses?"

"In theory, yes."

"And?" he prompted. "What is it?"

Loki's lips formed a sour smile. "Power. Pure, unlimited power."

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

There were still questions on Tony's mind, but Loki laid his head on the man’s chest and closed his eyes. Without even thinking, Tony ran his fingers through those black strands.

"You think it would work?"

Loki hummed something nondescript and shifted a bit, probably trying to find the most comfortable position.

"Sleep?" Tony asked.

It wasn't even a real hum he received in return this time, just a muffled "Ng." Let it be Loki's way then. Tony could go answer-hunting in the morning.

The Jotun thing. Why hadn't his skin been burned black with frostbite? Could he ever see Loki's scars? Would Loki want to fight in the war? What would Asgard say to Tony's presence? Why hadn't Loki taken time to bathe or even change before coming to Tony's room? The god seemed to have only put on a new tunic, leaving everything else as it had been.

Sleep came before the answers. Too soon, the morning substituted it, bringing with it horribly loud banging (read: knocking on his door) that nearly had Tony climb up the canopy (because yes, Aesir beds apparently had canopy. Or he was just special; one could never know).

"I'm coming, I'm coming, no need to take it out on the door," he grumbled and staggered out of bed. Someone had to be really interested in seeing him.

He pulled the heavy door inwards and blinked at an unknown face. "Can I help you?"

"My name is Lirfeir, and I have been tasked with making sure you have anything and everything you may require for the duration of your stay, Lord Stark. We've delivered your morning meal."

Lord Stark?

"Oh. Yeah, great. Just... give it to me, then."

The servant looked at him with a puzzled expression and glanced to his side, a direction into which Tony couldn't see since he was still standing at the other side of the doorstep. He decided to amend that the next second—

Only to lay his eyes on three more men, each holding a silver tray with both hands. An enormous silver tray that was covered, but still had 'food' written all over it. And then there was a woman with a pitcher of something, too.

"Oh."

Nope, he couldn't carry all that, but Loki was still out cold in his bed. If only the curtains had been drawn...

"Excuse me for a moment. I'll let you in in a second."

Eternally grateful for the canopy he'd nearly started mocking before, he slipped back into the room, spared only a quick glance to Loki's sleeping form (beautiful), and yanked the curtains shut. Breathing a sigh of relief, he returned to the door.

"You can come in now."

Lirfeir bowed a bit, then led the group inside and to the table located near the fireplace.

"Do you require anything, my lord? Should I have Greld make your bed?"

Tony was about to ask what a greld was when he once again noticed the direction the servant was looking at, and followed his gaze to the blanket hanging down to the floor, clearly visible under the edge of the curtains.

"No, no, I'm good. I'll take care of it later, it's fine."

From the way Lirfeir looked at him, Tony figured he must have said something very, very strange again.

"That would be a poor show of hospitality, my lord. Greld will take care of it for you." He gestured at the women, so that at least explained what a—who Greld was, and perhaps letting an important guest make his own bed would really be unacceptable (the room had been impeccable when he'd arrived, a hot bath and meal, albeit much smaller than this one, waiting for him), but there was no way he was going to let anyone find Loki in his bed. Not after the god had told him just being seen interacting with him in public could make Tony unpopular or even outright disliked. If that was true—and it likely was, or at least Loki was convinced it was—then having somebody find the god here could be disastrous. Tony couldn't allow it. For Loki's sake, if nothing else.

"You can't—I mean, on Earth—Midgard—it's considered terribly rude to touch somebody else's bed. Really rude. Nobody would do that. So, uh, if you could not touch my bed?"

"Oh." Lirfeir shifted in the way of a man who'd just had his conviction that he could do his job well torn apart and trampled. "Of course. Apologies, my lord."

"That's fine." Tony was just glad they'd bought his lame lie. "If you'd go now?" Disappear. Vanish. Puff. _Go_.

"Yes, of course." Lirfeir bowed, and the others followed his example before backing out of the room. The moment the door closed behind them, soft laughter rang through the room (and maybe, possibly, made Tony’s breathing hitch a bit).

"I must be a terribly rude person"—Loki pulled the curtains apart—"to keep touching you bed like this aaalll the time," he drawled.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Extremely rude. You even use my pillow."

"Such bad manners I have." The god kicked the bundle of quilts aside. "Thank you for covering for me."

"You're welcome. Will you join me for breakfast or scrub the dirt off your skin first?"

"Bathing, I think. There must be wasteful amounts of meat on those plates." Yawning, Loki clasped his hands together above his head and stretched his torso into a delicious curve. "Why don't you join me in the bath?"

"Swimming in all that dirt?" He cocked his head. "I'll suffer through. For you."

A pillow hit him in the stomach.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

He'd been surprised at the elegance and advancement of an Aesir bathroom at first. The bath was actually a small pool in the ground, shaped as an elegantly curved crescent, with warm water cascading into it from an opening in the wall surrounded by Celtic knots. Okay, the whole wall was one big knot, but Tony spent more time figuring out how old water left the pool and how the flushing system of the Aesir toilet (there were suspiciously many pipes) worked than admiring the art work. Perhaps because there seemed to be so much of it; both smaller walls, facing each other, were partially covered by mirrors and made the patterns on the other two walls continue into eternity.

Right now, he was completely satisfied watching Loki sit on the edge of the bath/pool, rippling the water's surface with his legs. Long, pale legs, parted just so, as if they were meant to give Tony ideas...

He waded across the bath from where he'd been sitting and came to stand first in front, then between those legs. His hands settled on the slick thighs, and he glanced up at Loki, who met his gaze. Tony's hands moved a bit, and the god shifted.

It was entirely unfair that he should be so attractive. His skin glistened with droplets of water, the moisture in the air made his hair curl, and the way his breathing caught when Tony slid his hands over his inner thighs and up but not quite up enough, was just sinful.

"Tony. T _ony_."

"Is that okay? Should I stop?" Oh, how he didn't want to. His body had stirred awake, and having to spend any more time in the bath with Loki without touching him would be torture.

"I don't... I don't know."

"Lo?"

The god shook his head. "I don't know."

Nodding once, he slowly slid his hand to Loki's cock—

And Loki jerked away. Tony's heart sank.  Perhaps he should have expected it, what with the stress of the last few days, but after they'd had actual sex, he'd been hoping they'd moved forward.

"I'm sorry," Loki murmured. "Please, don't."

"It's fine. We don't have to."

"You want to." Loki partly straightened his leg to point towards Tony's half-hard cock. What, the idea of having Loki in a fancy bath with all that wet skin either sliding against his was arousing, okay? "You need..."

"Nah, I'll just...do something later."

That was awkward. And a bit embarrassing.

"Do it now."

He blinked. "What?"

Loki bit his lip (which was not distracting, no, not at all). "Do it now. I want to see."

 _That_ sent blood rushing down. "Let me get this straight. You want to watch me masturbate while I'm thinking about all the things I would do to you?"

Slowly, Loki nodded.

"How is that not involving you in sex?" It better be, too. If such a show would leave Loki cold, then Tony should be starting to get seriously worried just about now.

"Distance. Tony, please. There are different variations of hot. I want to try this."

"Fine by me, then." Like anyone would object to that.

He let his gaze caress Loki's body; his lean chest, his long, long legs, muscles of his arms that shifted just so when he leaned back onto his hands, the dips of his collar bones. A part of him imagined Loki could feel his eyes worship his skin, and when their gazes met, Tony’s hand slowly travelled down and closed around his cock.

There was something in that green, something that held Tony's eyes open even though he would have closed them otherwise. A certain kind of want, not even physical so much as it seemed to be rising from all those secret places behind Loki's breastbone. Perhaps Tony should be drinking in Loki’s body with his gaze, imagining what he would do to that expanse of pale skin and lean muscles, but he found himself unwilling to break the connection. Unable to. Loki’s eyes held his attention like a beacon, the centre, the axis of his universe. Tony’s body was submerged in heat that was entirely different from the caressing warmth of water.

His lips parted to let a sigh through. His hand sped up; water resisted the movement. He didn’t care anymore. Soft, heated moans filled the humid air. His own, probably. They had to be.

Some other time, he would have Loki’s legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him in, and his hands could tug at black strands just so while his lips sang secrets to Loki’s and their breaths eloped.

He came with a shudder that gripped his body and arched his spine. Finally, his eyes slid closed, but even then the green remained in front of his mind's eye.

A gasping breath or two later, he forced his eyelids up again, only to discover he wasn't the only one breathing too fast. Loki's eyes were wild and dark, his cock half hardened, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"Like that?" Tony offered a lazy smile. He wasn't sure what to expect next, but then Loki would let him know. Probably.

"Like that."

The god hopped off the edge; droplets painted his skin and settled in his hair. He made a languid swimming motion, and them he was there, right in front of Tony, and pressing himself into an embrace.

"Hey." Tony smoothed the wet strands at Loki's nape. His other arm slid around the god and pulled him close, his thigh slipping between Loki's. "Want me to take care of this?"

Moving his leg a bit made Loki's breath hitch in his throat.

"N-no... There's no need. Tony..."

The strength of the arms around his increased and, "Ouch. Babe, I still need my ribs."

The pressure decreased.

"Ah, blessed air..." It had sounded more melodramatic in his head. "Is my bag still in your room?"

Loki shook his head against Tony’s shoulder. "I brought it with me. But beware: they will have Aesir clothes prepared for you tonight."

"For the feast?"

A nod this time.

"And what do we do until then?"

Loki lifted his head. "Either Thor will come bother you or has arranged for you to be bothered, or Odin has decided you are really a guest of honour, in which case he will send somebody to remind Thor you need to be bothered. Or you will be left alone. The latter option is highly unlikely to occur."

"Right... I take it whoever will be bothering me, it won't be you."

"No, it won't be me."

Joy of joys. Was he really about to be stuck with noisy people all day?

"But I can find a way to see you if that is all right?"

His brow furrowed. He didn't really know what it was, but something seemed just a tiny bit off. Perhaps that Loki was explicitly asking for permission rather than just stating the fact and waiting for Tony to simply tell him if whatever the god had suggested wouldn't work? Or maybe, maybe Tony just hated what Asgard in general did to Loki, the discreet but ever-present tension in his body, the way his gaze darkened too often, or his voice turned bitter whenever he spoke of his own position in Asgard or anything related to that.

"Of course it is," he said quietly. "Babe? What happened on that ashen world? The whole Jotun thing? Why didn't your touch hurt me?"

Loki's arms fell away from Tony's body.

"I don't know," the god said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Is there a way for you to figure it out?"

"I don't know," Loki repeated, an edge to his words this time, and Tony decided he should take the hint now if he wanted to avoid an argument.

Surely Loki had ways he could go about gathering information. Trying things. Coming up with theories. Hell, even Tony could do the last one. Instead, he just said, "Okay," and swallowed the questions.

Loki nodded in return. Then, lips barely moving, he muttered, "Perhaps Mother could help."

Tony pulled him back into a hug.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Loki had been right.

He was also gone, having left barely a minute before Tony's peace was disturbed by another loud knock. This time, he found only two people outside the door. Warriors, by the looks of it. Then again, he wasn't overly familiar with Aesir clothes and what ranks they implied, if any.

"Can I help you?"

The man, a blond, short-bearded representative of the species with what seemed to be a devil-may-care attitude, smiled widely.

"We are here to help _you_."

"You have to excuse Fandral," the woman—tall, tough-looking, with a waterfall of black hair—spoke. "He lost his manners at the sight of the first woman he'd seen this morning and hasn't been able to recover them since." She closed her fist and put it on her chest. "My name is Sif. This is Fandral the Dashing"—Tony held back a snort—"and we are friends of Thors. He sends his apologies, but his duties do not allow for his presence here at the moment."

Uh-huh. "And by duties you mean Jane Foster?"

Sif's eyes narrowed, but Fandral laughed. "Clever, this one. I think we'll get along just fine."

 _Doubtful_.

These were Thor's friends. The same friends who had committed treason against Loki.

Tony wasn't exactly planning to become best buddies with them. As it was, he also had no intentions of making enemies in a foreign realm, especially since every person in the said realm could kill him with their bare hands.

"Of course. I'm Tony Stark."

"We have heard of you, Man of Iron. Thor has told us about you heroics in battle."

Yeah. That. Wiping out perhaps an entire alien species so that humans could live. It had never been a real choice; nothing to consider. He would choose the same any time, and he wasn't even overly troubled, because the Chitauri happened to look the way they did and were trying to destroy his home, but as far as heroic battle went—well, he could imagine something better. Or just avoid crap altogether. Too bad crap always managed to find him.

"Yeah. Look, my room is kind of messy, so if you want to come in, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“It’s a short tour around the palace that we had in mind.” Or what _Thor_ had had in mind and sent them to do. As far as ‘short’ went, Tony doubted in was even possible; the place was enormous. He accepted nevertheless (did he even have the right to refuse or would that be considered an insult?), but as they walked the golden halls and Sif’s chatter filled his ears with details of battles and hunts of long ago, Tony began to wonder where Loki would have taken him if he were Tony’s guide. Library for sure. The gardens. Probably to some tower with great view, and to all those amazing little hiding places he’d used as a child. Loki would have taken him to places that were important to him, that had value, and Tony would very much prefer those as opposed to depictions of battles and golden statues of god-knows-who. Why did they even have so many painted walls in the first place? To boast?

Nobles. Typical nobles. Except for the little fact that Tony knew paintings of lords and ladies who were doing their best to look regal and sophisticated as opposed to these depictions where strength and readiness to kill seemed to be at the forefront.

“And this”—Sif turned to face the shorter wall of the room—“is the last Great War, in which Odin Allfather defeated the foul Frost Giants.”

Tony’s gaze followed hers—

And he froze.

It was just another scene, painted directly on the wall like all the others, only it was larger, much, much larger, covering the entire wall. Larger and violent. The Jotnar’s eyes shone red, their bodies were hunched, mouths opened in feral snarls, hands clawed. Tony could practically hear them growl. His gaze followed the shards of broken ice to a fallen Aesir soldier and two Jotnar crouched next to him and leaning over the body. No, not leaning. _Feeding_ from the body, gorging on the man’s intestines while the poor soldier’s face twisted in pain—

Tony swallowed and turned his gaze to the other side, doing his best to oversee a body chopped to pieces and a pile of Jotnar corpses somewhere around the middle. The far side of the painting, though—the far side was full of light coming from some invisible source and enveloping Odin’s figure, making the painted gold of his armour seem real. One of his feet was resting on dark blue body, mangled in a strange way; Odin’s spear had skewered the Jotun’s head to the ground. In the god’s other hand was a glowing blue box that reminded Tony on the Tesseract a bit too much even though it wasn’t the Cube. Not that he cared right now. What he was seeing—what the artist had depicted—the Jotnar—they were monsters. Savages, creatures so feral that one could almost think they _deserved_ to be slaughtered like they were. And Asgard? They were the heroes, the saviours.

He felt sick. Loki looked nothing like this, _was_ _nothing like this_. Yet this was what he’d grown up with, what he’d spent so long believing. Racism at its finest.

“Man of Iron?”

He managed to turn towards Fandral. “Hm?”

The latter clasped Tony’s shoulder for a moment. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be… Yes.” He swept the painting with his gaze once again. “Are they really like that?”

“The Frost Giants are monsters.” Sif strode back the way they’d come, and the two men followed. “Beasts.”

“But I’ve never seen them eat anyone,” remarked Fandral. It probably wasn’t meant to sound all that nice, but Tony was still a little bit thankful for his words.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Loki stood in shadows, glamour wrapped around him. If somebody paid attention to his corner, they would see him, but of the few people that had come and gone, nobody cared to let his gaze linger on the corner he was sharing with a heap of straw.

The stable emptied, and still he didn’t move. His attention was on the other side of the building, on the stalls he knew were hidden there behind the pillars.

He clenched his fists and unclenched them again.

His sigh was covered by the quiet snorts and the sound of an occasional hoof hitting the ground.

He swallowed and forced his feet to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it seems I'm making Fandral somewhat sympathetic, it's because I am. Of the W4, he's the nicest to Loki in the movies, and I really like him in that TDW deleted scene with Hogun. 
> 
> Crossposted at ff.net. You can find me on tumblr as shadesofmidnightsun, too. I'm still looking for a beta, in case anyone would be willing to do it.  
> Thanks for reading, and please drop a review. :)
> 
> ~shades


	7. Chapter VII: Raw And Tender in Some Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping secrets might not be the best strategy for avoiding trouble. Same goes for abruptly leaving heroic feasts and wishing for snacks after midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... *looks at the last update date* That... was not exactly two weeks. *offers cookies as an apology*

**Chapter VII—Raw And Tender in Some Places**

 

_Anxiety (noun): A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome._

 

He'd been well fed and shown the training grounds and the throne hall, which were at least a bit interesting, before he was ushered back to his room with the excuse that the evening's feast was coming up. Not that he minded. He'd been half hoping Loki would be waiting inside for him, but a part of him was glad not to see the god; the image from that wall had been burned into Tony's mind.

Rubbing his eyes, he fell onto the still-unmade bed. Before long, servants came and stuffed him into "suitable clothes". Pff. Tony looked perfectly fine in pants and a shirt. He _always_ looked perfectly fine, except perhaps dressed in a soft, dark crossbreed between pants and leggings, a white tunic, and a fancy kind of leather west of such dark red it almost seemed black, adorned with clasps and metal on his chest and shoulders. Boots were a must, it seemed, and when they tied leather vambraces to his forearms, Tony was just glad he wasn't forced to wear an actual armour. Or a cape. The last thing he needed was tripping over his own cape.

He managed to slip on the suit's (very manly) bracelets just before the door opened again, this time without his permission, to admit Thor into the room.

"I see you are ready," he said.

"I guess," Tony said just as Jane joined them in the room, dressed in a deep purple gown. "Is Loki with you?"

Thor shook his head. "I thought we'd find him here."

"Tough luck. I haven't seen him since morning. He said he'd come find me, but he must have changed his mind." That was certainly preferable to something bad happening to him.

Thor shrugged. "He disappears sometimes."

"And where does he disappear to?"

"I do not know."

"We should find him."

"There is no reason to worry, Friend Stark." Thor shifted, cape rippling like water.

"Are you sure?" Jane looked up at him, and he nodded.

"I know my brother. He does that sometimes."

"To _Tony_? "

That seemed to give Thor pause. "Maybe. But if he doesn't wish to be found, we won't find him."

"And if he does?" Tony urged. Loki would have told him if he wanted to skip the feast, right? He wouldn't just let Tony worry, of course not.

Unless he would.

Cursing his own doubts, he tried to push the thought away. Worrying was bad enough; he didn't need anything else beside it.

And then the door opened. Loki strolled into the room, stopped in his tracks, and sent a glare Thor's way.

"What are you doing here?"

His hair was dishevelled, cheeks marred with stains of mud, his clothes rumpled. Something shifted behind his eyes.

"Collecting my guest."

"He's _my_ guest," Loki snarled and Tony frowned. "Mine! I've had enough of you and yours taking things from me!"

"I'm trying not to get you in trouble."

"Really? And who's the reason I'm here?"

Thor's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth, then closed it. "Clean yourself up. There isn't much time anymore."

"I don't care about being on time." Loki began unbuckling the top layer of his clothes. "Get out. I can get Tony to the feast."

Thor opened his mouth again, but his time it was Jane's tug on his sleeve that made him close it.

"We'll see you later," he astrophysicist said and half dragged Thor out. Loki glared after them for another second before he started violently tugging his clothes off.

"What happened to you?" Tony picked up Loki's tunic after the god had tossed it onto the ground. "You said you'd come see me."

"I asked you if I could. I went riding." Loki dumped his boots onto the floor and disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments. He emerged with a wet cloth in his hand.

"And that got you into a bad mood?"

"Yes." He ran the cloth over his forearm and up to the armpit.

"Just riding?"

Loki looked up from the cloth. "Do I speak a language you don’t understand?"

"Jeez, I was just worried about you, but sure, go take your anger out on me, that's perfectly fine and completely fair."

Loki kept staring at him, a little less violently but still unkindly, before he went back to washing himself. "Who did you get as a tour guide?"

"Sit and Fandral."

"Hmf. And what did they show you?"

"Nothing much." Racism. "Training grounds. The throne." He shrugged. "You know, if you want to talk about what upset you..."

Loki paused his movement. "That is hardly fair. You want  me to share everything, yet you have no intentions of sharing what upset you today."

"How do you know something—ah, never mind. Of course you'd know."

"It's all over your face. If they did something to you,  I will feed them their tongues."

"There's no need for that then." He got up, approached Loki, and gently pried the cloth out of his grip so that he could run it over the alabaster skin himself. "I don't like them much, especially Sif, but they were civil."

"You still won't tell me what happened."

"It would upset you." He ran the cloth down Loki's back and up again.

"You think this does not?" Muscles tensed. "You aren't being fair."

"You were the one who didn't want to talk about the Jotnar in the first place."

Loki froze. "They showed you the fresco," he said, voice cold and seemingly emotionless. "Do you think me a monster now?"

Tony blinked. "No, of course not!" He wrapped his arms around Loki, torso pressed against the god's back. "I think Asgard is a little too racist for comfort. I think you're beautiful when you're blue."

"Don't say that."

"Fine, I'll stick to thinking it." He pressed his lips on the pulse in Loki's neck. "Seriously though, I have to say you turned out well, considering everything. Could have been much worse."

Loki made a sad, strangled sound. "I still won't tell you about today. I can't. Not yet."

"Okay." Tony inhaled. Loki smelled like home. He always smelled like home. "We should get ready now, right?"

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Every single muscle in his body trembled under the weight of tension, locking his body in a rigid pose. If only Tony were by his side… Loki's fingers moved before he could stop them from being foolish. He did not need Tony by his side tight now. He _could_ not need Tony.

His precious mortal was standing at Thor's side, looking slightly confused but not overly uncomfortable; the spotlight (that was what humans said, wasn't it?) was no stranger to him. A part of Loki's mind found the time to appreciate Aesir clothes on Tony—leather suited him no less than metal and earthly suits. In fact, it hugged his torso very nicely...

However, most of Loki's attention was reserved for Odin's words. They were his shield, his protective barrier. Words he couldn't repeat afterwards, but words that made him free in the eyes if Asgard once more—and a target of their scorn and dark gazes.

At least it was mercifully quick. Allfather's voice diverted the attention to Tony and his glorious deeds. The inventor frowned ever so slightly, but his smile didn't waver. It didn't reach his eyes, either.

The bad part was Loki couldn't slip away until the food had been brought. As somebody who'd served his sentence, he was to be accepted back, and Odin insisted he join the feast even though it would all be merely a farce.

The gazes on him burnt, making him long for shadows. For Tony's embrace. Instead, he was forced to stand at Odin's side at the head of the table, which put him in clear view of everyone.

His mind wandered without permission. It never would have happened Before, but whether he liked to admit it or not, it was still raw and tender in some places, wearing marks of _his_ abuse, and Loki's control wasn't as wholesome as it used to be. Not yet.

So when he was finally allowed to sit down and mead started to pour, he wasn't entirely sure what he'd missed. Under the table, his hands clenched into fists. The loss he'd suffered... Things that were once an essential part of him, but were gone now...

Swallowing, he pushed the thoughts away and downed a cup of mead; it came to rest back on the table with a thud.

At the end of the hall, the doors opened, allowing the servants to stagger in under the weight of food. Loki's eyes shot to Tony, who frowned, and then to Odin.

He didn't want to be here. He didn't want food, didn't enjoy the drink, and he couldn't see that much meet at once, he couldn't—

Their laughter was so cold—the soldier, the poor soldier—Loki never even got to learn his name—"You wanted to feed him? Now you can..."—fingers prying his jaw open—

Blood—blood, blood, raw, pain—

A hand gripped his shoulder and he jerked back on an impulse. Voices echoed in his ears, some more real than the others, but how could he tell which were which? How could he know which ones wouldn’t hurt him when all of them were intrusive and painful and _too much_ —

His body reacted on its own as he rose to his feet, trying to keep the bile down (it never ended well if he threw up) and fled the room, the noise, the smell.

Doors swung shut behind him. He staggered to the left, his hand pressed over his mouth, eyes watering; blinking did little good. If he could only keep the memories away, wash the taste of flesh off his tongue...

His legs gave out, but he hardly felt the impact of the fall. Somebody stopped beside him—the guards, the guards from the hall entrance—but he couldn't bring himself to look. Nor could he suck in enough air, and the sickness was making him curl into a ball. The taste of vomit burnt his tongue. Somebody touched his shoulder, making him jerk away, just go away, away where they couldn't touch him, couldn't hurt him, couldn't—

“Loki?” Fingers brushed his knee.

Shaking his head, he scrambled back until his back hit the wall. Couldn’t they just leave him alone? Couldn’t he be given a little more time? Just a little more time, _please_?

“Lo, it’s me.”

The voice was soft. Impossibly soft. An illusion, then, but he’d never once heard Tony’s voice during his hallucinations… He hadn’t known Tony yet.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to meet a concerned brown gaze. He still twitched when a hand touched his cheek, but didn’t try to escape it. A finger wiped his lips, and Loki leaned into the touch.

“You _are_ real,” he murmured.

“Yeah. Can you get up? We should go somewhere more comfortable.”

He finally moved his gaze to see Odin standing behind Tony. Thor was, strangely enough, absent, but three of the four entrance guards were gathered around. Mortification heated his insides when he realized what they had witnessed, but a part of him was too shaken to care.

Shrugging, he uncurled from his position and tried to push himself to his feet, but his body betrayed him. Tony was there before he could fall, draping his arm over his shoulders. And then—Loki wasn’t completely sure he stopped being delusional—Odin stepped to his other side.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?” The last thing he wanted now was Odin’s presence; it inevitably turned everything into a power contest. He simply wanted to curl up next to Tony and listen to his whispered reassurances. He wanted to wipe away the pain.

The sound of footsteps reached his ear, but even though he probably should, he didn’t turn to see how many curious onlookers had come to enjoy his pathetic state. It would have required energy he didn’t have, so he just leaned against Tony. If only he could disappear…

Nausea gripped his body at the thought. No. No. he wasn’t there anymore. He could use magic. He…

“Leave us.” Odin’s voice boomed down the corridor, jerking Loki back into alertness for a moment before he sank back against Tony. He didn’t fight anymore when Odin decided to support him, too, though suspicion and surprise fought for dominance inside him.

He was only half aware of the way. Breathing still came too hard, and he tasted bile at the back of his throat. No, in his mouth. Disgusting…

Gentle hands guided him down onto his bed—Tony’s hands—his Tony—

“It’s okay, I’m here,” the man murmured. “Snowflake, I’m here. But you’re hurting me.”

“Hmm?”

Somebody pried his hands from Tony’s shirt, and he tried to grasp it again, but then Tony’s body was pressed against his, and Loki satisfied himself with taking hold of the arm wrapped around him. The line between his memories and reality was blurred; perhaps holding on to Tony strong enough would bring it into focus again.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. Tony’s voice caressed his ears and he finally dared to breathe a little bit deeper.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Tony felt he deserved Asgard's Award for Most Patience. Or he would have if he'd had to deal with anyone else any longer than he'd had to, though he supposed he was a bit thankful to Thor for coming to check on them, bringing water, and dragging Odin away.

Then, there was silence. Loki didn't ask him to talk again. In fact, Loki didn't do anything at all, only his fingers kept clutching Tony's sleeve. Still more time passed before the inventor pried them away and slipped off the bed to use the bathroom; Loki must have fallen asleep, for he hadn't moved.

Awesome. Not that Tony didn't like Loki's sleeping face or Aesir bathrooms, but neither would offer him food, and his stomach was really determined to get it. Loath as he was to leave the god, he was also opposed to waking him, so eventually he decided to go look for a kitchen. It should be _that_ hard.

Loki's rooms were dark save for his bedroom, but the corridor outside was bathed in torchlight. Tony stepped closer to the wall, inspecting the flame. He frowned. It was a simple wooden torch he was seeing, but somehow, the wood didn't seem to be getting reduced to ashes. How the hell did Asgard manage to pull that off?

Loud rumbling in his stomach convinced him to delay science talks and focus on more...primary needs. He moved again, letting the corridor lead him who knew where. Would it kill them to invent an Aesir GPS? Or at least paint arrows on the walls? ‘That way for food.’

He turned right and then left, hoping he’d run into someone he could ask for help, but there was no one around. Perhaps they were all still gorging in that hall?

He rounded another corner, a big double door framed by two pillars coming into view. Halting for a moment, he decided to approach. It looked kind of important. Certainly more grand that the ones he’d seen on his way, save perhaps the entrance to Loki’s and Thor’s rooms. Shouldn’t there be guards then?

Before he could finish that thought, something cold was pressed against his neck. Cold and sharp.

“You are not authorised to be here,” an unfamiliar voice told him.

Tony swallowed. “Yeah, okay. I didn’t know that. In fact, I’m a little lost. I’ll go happily if you’d tell me where I can find the kitchen.”

“Kitchen?” A different voice this time. A guard strolled into view, sword pointed at Tony. “How dumb do you think we are?”

“So that means I was headed into the completely wrong direction?”

That earned him a slap. Or—what should have been a slap by Aesir standard. His head was thrown to a side, and he would have worried about the blade that cut into his throat at that if the side of his head didn’t feel as if it had just been hit with Mjolnir. The corridor was swimming in front of his eyes. Something coppery stained his tongue.

More pain erupted in his jaw—wait, that was just the guy holding him, right? Doing his job or something. If only his head would stop throbbing like it was about to burst, then Tony could think and maybe get himself out of this misunderstanding…

“’m Thor’s friend,” he tried to say.

“We can do this the hard way, too,” the guard said. He didn’t sound overly happy, but what did Tony know.

“Ask him,” he managed to say. Something warm was trickling under his collar.

“I warned you.”

That was all he got before pain burst in his head and blackness greeted him with a grin.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

“Brother! Loki!

He blinked groggily and rolled his head to the other side to escape the noise.

“Brother, wake up!”

This time, there were hands on his shoulders, shaking him.

“Its friend Stark. He’s been injured. Eir said he’d lost a lot of blood. They’re trying to keep him alive.”

Loki opened his mouth—

Nothing. No words, no air.

A frigid hand gripped his insides, and he couldn’t breathe.

Tony couldn’t die. Couldn’t. Wasn’t allowed to.

How was Loki supposed to survive if Tony were gone?

He finally managed to suck air into his lungs, but too much of it, and he was chocking and trying to breathe while his blood was rushing through him and his heartbeat echoed in his ears. Such fragile things…

Such fragile bodies.

_He’d_ said that, too. He’d laughed as Loki cried while his chest was being torn apart—not torn—opened methodically, ribs broken away—

Breathing. Tony always talked about breathing, but Tony wasn’t there, perhaps wouldn’t be anymore, there were only hands on his shoulders and smouldering metal in his mind—

“Brother!”

No. No, Thor had never been there to help him, only Tony, only—

The hands moved and pulled him into an embrace. A warm body pressed against his, broad and hard, but with the wrong smell.

“Loki. Calm yourself.”

Hands massaging his back.

“Stark will live, I’m sure of it.”

“Thor.” He should be pushing the oaf away, should be snapping at him and shouting, but somehow, he did none of that.

“I am sure,” his non-brother repeated, but it wasn’t that, it wasn’t that at all. Nothing was forever. Tony would die, and Loki would stay alone—

And he couldn’t.

Slowly, a realisation sank in, and what he found in his mind scared him even more—if that was at all possible—than Tony’s mortality.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have said that ages ago: the fic is crossposted at ff.net, in case anyone would prefer to read it there. As always, you can find me on tumblr. 
> 
> Please drop a review :)
> 
> ~shades


	8. Chapter VIII: Without His Centre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are a thing. Only, maybe they aren't. Probably, they still are. In some weird, complicated way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Supernatural happened. Well, that and illness, but mostly Supernatural. Thanks your for reviews and reading so far.

**Chapter VIII—Without His Centre**

_Dependence (noun): the state of relying on or being controlled by someone or something else._

 

Tony woke up with the worst headache in history of pretty much everything. A groan escaped his lips. He really shouldn’t have been drinking so much. Only, he couldn’t remember drinking anything. Instead, there were corridors and the taste of copper on his tongue and an unfamiliar fist.

He blinked. Loki’s face, pale and drawn, came into focus through the throbbing behind his eyes.

“Hey.” He tried to flash the god a grin.

Loki’s lips twitched just a bit. “Is it bad?” he asked.

“I’ve had worse.”

Struggling a bit, Tony managed to prop himself on his elbows and spared a moment to take in his surroundings. He guessed it was the medical bay. Well, healing room. It was different than the one he’d seen Loki in, though. For one, he was lying on an actual bed, not an examination table.

“How did I get here?”

Loki pressed his lips together. “Those imbeciles of the guards realised you were human after you fainted. They dragged you to Thor, who had you brought here.” A pause. “What were you doing there in the first place?”

Tony frowned. Something was off with Loki; the formality of his voice, the stiffness in his shoulders, his clouded gaze. 

“Looking for food. So, what did I find instead? A super secret treasure room? Some important Ass cheating on his wife?”

“My mother’s chambers,” came the reply. Loki’s eyes shifted to the nearby wall.

“Oh. They’re off limits or something?”

“For anyone but the family, as a sign of respect. It’s the time of mourning.”

“I, uh, didn’t know that.” Tony shifted, turning to a side. “Babe, are you okay?”

Something shifted under Loki’s skin; the barely-there lines around his mouth tightened. “You are the one lying in a bed.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said, frowning. At least Loki wasn’t lying. That had to count for something, right? It didn’t make the tension in Tony’s stomach dissipate, though. “Anything I can do?”

Loki shook his head. Then he caught Tony’s gaze and cocked his head, as if to convey he changed his mind. “Perhaps.”

“Okay, I’m officially worried now. Who do I have to kick?”

Loki’s lips remained stubbornly pressed together. Tony’s frown darkened. His fingers clutched the sheet as an alternative to reaching for Loki; why he chose that, he didn’t know.

“Snowflake?”

“I believe…” A breath swirled between the god’s lips. “I believe it would be good… if we didn’t spend time together.”

Tension locked Tony’s muscles into place. “Look, I get it, Asgard is full of assholes, but I don’t care. I really don’t care if they dislike me. It’s not like I came here fishing for approval, so don’t worry about that. You want me around, I’ll be around.”

Oh-so-slowly, Loki shook his head.

“I… am not sure I do.”

_What?_

Tony must have heard something wrong. Definitely. Because Loki had _not_ just said that.

“Wait a sec. You asked me to come here. You—explain that to me, would you?”

He could see how Loki’s walls went up, shielding him from the world and every word that came out of Tony’s mouth, trying to hide the god from the kindling of anger inside the billionaire. But fuck it, something was happening, and apparently Tony wasn’t good enough to get the meme. Not even  after he’d been serving as a punching bag and an example of human anatomy to Aesir like a fucking frog to be dissected in a lab.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Is it?” His eyebrows arched. “Or do you just don’t think I should know? I’m kind of involved in this, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Too involved. That’s the problem. You’re too involved in everything.”

Tony forced his voice to remain even. There was something in Loki telling him exploding would not be a good idea. “You mean I’m sticking my nose in places it doesn’t belong?”

“I mean you’re the centre of my existence!” Loki snapped, and whoa, definitely not what Tony had been expecting. But he felt it was something big, now, something larger than Loki’s words, and he needed to understand.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, temper pushed deep, deep down again in the wake of dread that was subtly spreading through his stomach. His hand finally found Loki’s, and even though the god tensed, he didn’t pull away.

Those green eyes Tony had seen in so many different states were careful and deep.

“You mean too much to me,” Loki said after a soft breath escaped his lips. “I need you too much.”

“It’s not bad to need someone,” Tony offered. It had taken him ages to get that, and maybe he was still working on it, but it felt true when the words left his mouth.

“Not _too much_. Tony.” Loki sighed, looking tired. So tired. He squeezed the inventor’s hand. “I’ve been around for a millennium without you. I fought battles long before your ancestors came to your land, I’ve learnt more than your whole generation could. And now… Now it’s all just you. I can’t spend time with you anymore. Not now.”

A line cut deep into Tony’s forehead. “You’re saying you need me, but at the same time that you can’t be around me. See the flaw in that logic? You think if you lock yourself into a room, you’re just going to be fine? It doesn’t work that way. I tried. I tried locking myself away, and look at me. Do I look like a good example of my species?”

For a moment, Loki stared at him. “You function,” he said, voice somewhat too even. “You have other people in your life. Just… leave me alone.” He stood up, slipping his hand out of Tony’s grasp.

“Hey! No. No way I’ll let you get away so easily! There’s a bunch of stuff you’re not telling me and I want to know—”

Tony reached out to grab Loki’s hand again, but the bastard retreated and made for the door.

“Hey!” Tony climbed to his feet. “Don’t walk away like that, you ass—”

The door slammed shut. Gritting his teeth, Tony strode across the room, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head, and exited the room, too, but there was no sign of Loki.

Great. Fucking awesome. No way was he going to find Loki if the latter refused to be found, which left seething in silence Tony’s only option.

“Damnit, you idiot!”

Or not so much in silence.

Of course Loki would do something like that. He’d find some problem in his mind and decide to do something stubbornly stupid about it because no, surely talking to Tony and coming up with an acceptable solution wouldn’t be a better idea. After all, Tony was only—oh—the second party involved in their relationship. The ditched party, or whatever he was now. Probably still Loki’s boyfriend. Loki’s _angry_ boyfriend.

This trip had been a disaster before it had even started.

“Tony Stark.”

He almost jumped out of his skin. _Almost_. Instead, he managed to force a smile (or something trying to pass as a smile) to appear on his lips. “Lady Hlin, was it?”

She nodded and approached from the other side of the hall. “You should be resting.”

“I’m okay.”

_Liar. You’re lying_.

“It is my duty to take care of you.”

“Something like a healer’s pledge? Help the diseased and the poor?” He didn’t want to be helped right now. Just left alone with a bottle of bourbon. “World peace?”

All right, so he was acting out. What?

Hlin pinned him with a Look. “Return to your room,” she said, and how come Tony was only now noticing all the women in his life were scary? Not that Hlin was a woman in his life or something. He still obeyed, though, partly out of resignation. Perhaps if he behaved, she would bring him something alcoholic. Maybe some food, too, even if he wasn’t sure he could stomach it; all his previous hunger was gone, replaced by a tight knot in his insides.

Turning on his heel made his head spin. Hlin’s hand closed around his arm, steadying him. Stupid gods with super strength. At least she let go and let him walk on his own. He wasn’t an invalid.

“Any chance of getting a good drink?” he asked, sitting down on the bed.

“There is water.” She nodded at the nightstand and lowered herself into the chair Loki had been sitting in; somehow, Tony didn’t like that. “Alcohol wouldn’t do you any good now.”

Right. “Of course.”

Why was she sitting there anyway? “You here to check my head or something?”

Hlin blinked once, meeting his gaze. A second passed in silence. Two. Three. “I might be a healer,” she said slowly, “but that is not the only reason I’m here. Above all, I strive to protect those Lady Frigga wished to be protected. _That_ is my duty.”

“Thor said you were a friend of the Queen’s. I’m sorry for your loss.”

That had to be an okay thing to say, right?

“So you do show your nicer side to others as well.” Hlin’s lips curled just a bit. “Lady Frigga was a Seer.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She couldn’t talk about the details of her visions… But she was free to discuss the conclusions she came to after Seeing things.”

“Mmhm.”

“She would talk about you, sometimes.”

Tony arched his eyebrows at that. “You grew to like me?”

Another pointed look. “She said you were good for Prince Loki.”

 “Okay…?”

“So stay good for him.”

He hadn’t thought the conversation would turn this way, but okay. Maybe he’d found out something useful just now.

“Which one of us are you protecting here again?”

“Both. I heard you were a good man. Lady Frigga very much wished she could meet you.”

“Mmhm.”

Time. Loki had thought he’d had time. It was always about timing, wasn’t it? You could have everything, but you still needed timing.

And timing was a bitch.

“So you don’t… hate Loki?”

Hlin reached over to the nightstand and poured a cup of water from the pitcher. She offered it to Tony, who accepted.

“I’ve been tasked with watching over certain people for a long, long time. I’ve watched them, I’ve helped them; Aesir, Vanir, humans…” She cocked her head in a way that was similar to Loki’s gesture yet completely different. “No, I do not hate Prince Loki. I watched him grow up after all. But I do judge his actions.”

“He saved the Nine Realms,” Tony said, suddenly feeling defensive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but he did. Wasn’t a perfect way, but hell, casualties happen.”

Hlin’s gaze burned his skin. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” she spoke at last.

A nod.

“Thank you.”

He blinked. “What for?”

“For telling me this.”

“You’re welcome?”

“You two take care of each other. I know you fought, but when Lady Frigga insisted someone was good for somebody, I was inclined to believe. Don’t make me change my mind.”

With that she got back to her feet. “Bathing room is that way”—she pointed at the other door in the room—“and somebody will bring you food soon. Don’t let me find you out of the room again.”

Tony grunted in agreement. A small bubble of relief settled amid all the worry inside him.

There was at least one person in Asgard who approved of his being together with Loki.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Usually, his footsteps were barely audible, if at all. Now they echoed up and down the room, turning in circles. Fingernails dug crescents in his palms; he pressed stronger until his skin finally broke.

Pathetic. Pathetic, pathetic.

Already, a treacherous voice was telling him to go back to Tony for comfort the way he always did because it was wont to work—except when Tony wasn’t there, so he barked at the voice to shut up, bloodied palms pressing against his temples.

How could this have happened? How could he have become so dependent on Tony? He’d spent a millennium on his own, always managing everything on his own, and now he couldn’t imagine a life without Tony in it? It was ridiculous. He wasn’t a child who couldn’t go a day without his mother!

_Mother…_

No.

He clenched his fists again, nails digging deeper. Pain was familiar. Safe. Unless it was the hurt on Tony’s face, so raw and genuine, and Loki had caused it. But Tony would manage. The man was strong.

Soft knocking disturbed the image of Tony’s eyes in Loki’s mind. He wiped his palms into his pants and walked to the door. “Yes?”

“Uh… It’s Jane,” came the voice from the other side.

“Tony isn’t here.”

“I know. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Loki swallowed a groan. By the Nine, couldn’t he get a moment of peace? “What is it?” He leaned against the door.

“You’re not going to let me in?”

He could practically hear the frown in her voice.

“No. Talk.”

Now she was probably pouting.

“Well, I guess… I wanted to thank you. For saving my life in Svartlf—Svarm—in there.”

“Very well. You can go now.”

“I mean it. You didn’t have to protect me.”

“I know.” Was she done now?

“So why did you?”

He took a breath. Pressed his lips together. Parted them and exhaled. His insides were twisting with nausea.

“Saving you was the point of the mission. “

“Right. Of course.” A short pause. “I have to admit you’re a pretty awesome fighter.”

A snort rose in his throat, but he swallowed it; he didn’t want to risk the bile rising with it. It was a strange thing to hear from someone who wasn’t Tony, although perhaps not so unusual coming from a mortal. They were weak after all. Weaker. Tony was a strong as he could be…

“Would you leave now?”

“Uh. Yeah, I can do that. Are you okay?”

Now he did snort. A tiny treacherous part of him felt a spark of warmth at her words (nonsense. People didn’t care about him), but he pushed it down.

“I am well enough. Do leave.”

“All right. Fine. Bye then.”

He listened to her retreating footsteps—slow as if something were holding her back—until they disappeared, then he dragged himself over to the bed and collapsed on it.

A dark hole gaped in his stomach, sucking his soul dry. The air felt cold even though he was a frost giant and shouldn’t be affected by the temperature as much. Perhaps it wasn’t the temperature then…

How had he gotten so low? Attached to a mortal so badly, built around a mortal because Tony had been there to glue the pieces back together after Loki had been broken apart and trampled underfoot. The only problem was the core—pieces of him spread around the centre, and that central position was filled by his infuriating, precious mortal. He’d rebuilt his sanity around Tony, his everything, and now? Who was he without his centre? Was he anyone, _anything_ , at all?

He pulled his knees up to his chest and draped a quilt over them. The pressure in his gut had apparently decided to remain for good. 

There had to be something he still had, something only his own. A way for him to prove he could be perfectly fine without Tony. A way to simply prove himself.

He shifted, mind turning notion after notion around. At last he settled on a thought, but he couldn’t find the will to move his body. It felt heavy, aching in places that weren’t injured. A part of him didn’t understand why he should ever want to move again, and for now, he allowed that part to take over. It was easier that way. He could just lie there, eyes shut, just be whoever he was now, and try to keep breathing. Such a simple task, yet so strenuous…

Minutes slipped away with the rising and falling of his chest. Finally, he forced his muscles back into action. He needed an opportunity to prove he could be strong and stand on his own without Tony? Well, he had one. He just had to take it.

Long strides carried him through corridors, down grand staircases, and past flickering torches that never burnt down, and finally into the pillared hall with the half-crumbled throne. Debris crunched under his boots. He kicked a chunk of stone out of his path, clasped his hand behind his back, and crossed the rest of the distance to the dais. The sad remains of the previously imposing chair made bits of satisfaction flow through his blood. Nevertheless, a part of him squirmed at seeing yet another proof how easily the mighty could fall.

“Allfather.”

“Loki.” Odin, standing behind the throne, turned towards him. His eye focused on Loki’s face. “You seem unwell.”

The Trickster squared his shoulders. “The answer’s yes. I will help you fight the war.”

He held that piercing blue gaze stubbornly until it finally turned lower and broke the connection.

“And in return?”

“You will owe me something. I need free access and permission to use the Tesseract, and I get to ask for a favour in return so long as it doesn’t directly hurt anyone.” He knew better than to think Odin would agree without the promise no immediate harm would befall his precious Asgard or humans.

Odin’s brow furrowed. “So long as it doesn’t harm anyone, directly or indirectly.”

“And it isn’t the Tesseract.”

“Yes. I cannot give you the Cube.”

“Very well. I will not ask for permanent possession of the Tesseract then. Do we have an agreement?”

Oh so slowly, Odin inclined his head. “I will call the council. We meet at sunset.”

It was Loki’s turn to nod.

“I heard about Anthony’s injury. I’m sorry.”

He arched an eyebrow, the other lowering towards the point between his eyes at the same time. Was that mockery, or was there really genuine concern behind the words? Somehow, he hoped for both at the same time. It would be perhaps easier to deal with the first after everything that had happened…

“Thank you.”

“Get some rest, Loki.”

Pressing his lips together, the younger god turned and strode away, ends of his sleeveless coat catching the wind. At least now he wouldn’t have time to feel sorry for himself; he had a war to win.

 

 


	9. Chapter IX: What about Those

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony doesn’t seem to be making too many new friends. Loki redecorates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. I utterly underestimated my finals... Sorry I left you waiting...

 

**Chapter IX—What about Those**

 

_Workings (noun): the way in which a machine, organization, or system operates._

 

Four walls. That was enough to drive a man crazy. Four walls and no alcohol. Hlin hadn’t come back, let alone Loki, and by midday, Tony was well and truly bored. His only visitor had been a short woman who’d brought food and some suspiciously-smelling, thick liquid she’d called medicine. At least it hadn’t been too disgusting to swallow.

The pain in his head had ebbed away, and he was growing restless. Being knocked out had forced him to sleep for a few hours, which was all his body really needed. He’d functioned on less before.

When he returned from the bathroom, wondering how much longer he’d have to pace to leave a trail in the floor, the door slid open. Tony’s eyebrows rose.

“Jane?”

“Hi.” She closed the door behind her, nearly catching a fold of her gown between it and the doorframe. “I would have brought coffee, but it doesn’t seem to be growing on Asgard.”

“Yeah…  And they’re possessive of their mead. Wouldn’t let me have any.” He sat down on the bed and gestured at the chair. “Make yourself comfortable. Where’d you lose Thor?”

Jane sat down, crossing her arms over her chest. “Talking battle, I hear. I’m going to walk around for a bit, and I thought you might want to join me. Explore Asgard.”

He hesitated. Perhaps Loki would come looking for him and wouldn’t find him here… But Jane wasn’t sitting around waiting for Thor, either, and if the Thundered had thought she would, then he’d been tragically mistaken.

“Sounds like fun.” And he could have fun. He could totally have fun.

“Great. You can leave here, right?”

The corners of Tony’s lips curled upwards. “When have you ever known me to ask for permission?”

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Bad morals or not, Asgard’s technology  was impressive, from the ball a few boys were playing with that somewhat resembled an atom with a golden core and silver orbits circling around it, to entire buildings floating in midair. Floating! The scientist part of him kept doing back flips (because apparently, it could do that, never mind his forty-something, pain-susceptible back), and one look at Jane told him she wasn’t any less excited (even though she’d convinced him not to steal that ball).

“Why didn’t those jerks show me any of this?” He poked the surface of a reflecting pond. Well, some kind of a reflective pond. No ceiling or walls were mirrored in it. Not even Tony’s face showed on the surface when he leaned over the water. Instead, the pond offered him a look at the sky, all the stars and nebulas and moons above Asgard, even though Tony was certain the hole in the ceiling right above the pond wasn’t even nearly large enough for that.

“What jerks?”

“Fandral and Sif.” He stuck first his finger, then his whole hand, through the surface; the water rippled around it, but the image remained. “Thor forced them to give me a tour. They kept talking about wars.”

“Oh.” Jane sat down on the edge of the pond. It was rectangular and made out of some light stones that all seemed to be exactly the same size. “I’ve met them.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“They’re warriors in a culture of warriors.” She lifted her gaze up to him. “You don’t like them.”

“They weren’t exactly Loki’s best buddies.”

“Thor said they were friends.”

“Thor doesn’t always see everything.”

“Perhaps, but he’s nice.” She pressed her lips together.

“That doesn’t make all the non-nice things in the world go away.” Tony pulled his hand out of the water and shook it. Droplets landed on his clothes. That reminded him—sometime soon would be a good time to change…

Jane pressed her lips together. Her fingers traced the narrow dip between two stones. "Have you ever considered Loki's version of the past might not be entirely true?"

"Sure I have. Doesn't matter, though; it's true for him. I'm sure Thor has a different version with different feelings, but that doesn't make what Loki feels any less true."

"I... suppose you could be right." Jane's gaze lingered on her fingers. "Thor didn't talk much about the past. I know he was banished for starting a war and all that... But... Loki was jealous, wasn't he?"

"Honestly? I'd say somewhat, yeah. He said it was about protecting Asgard first, and I believe him. You've seen this place, these people. They don't think the way we do. Battle and death mean glory to them. Thor wouldn't notice a morally delicate situation if it kicked him in the butt, but that doesn't mean none were there. I guess Loki's way of thinking is... different enough to notice the bad sides of Asgard.

"I mean, come on, look at their feasts. The food has to come from somewhere, and there have to be people who work the whole day so that the warriors can eat. If somebody loses a limb in an accident, he's probably doomed to shame and starves to death because he can't work, but it this happens to a warrior, it's celebrated."

Jane finally looked up. "Is that true?"

"The limb thing? No idea. It seems like something that would fit the place. Not that I want to see it, but I keep expecting some Game-of-Thrones-worthy gore. It can't all be polished and shiny like my suits."

"Hm."

"Takes away some of the magic, doesn't it?"

Jane nodded. Tony spent another moment hoping the aforementioned gore wouldn't make an entrance and being torn between wanting to ask Loki if Asgard had slaves and really not wanting to know the answer.

"They're not even aware how much science—or magic—they have in this place. It's taken for granted."

"It's everywhere," Jane said. "Maybe that's why they don't pay attention to it."

Tony poked the water once more. "They're blind. Should we go somewhere else?"

"The bridge?"

"Bifrost?"

"Yes, that."

He nodded.

 

~*oO*o*Oo~

 

His hand was deceptively pale.

Sometimes, Loki wondered why he bled red when his skin was peeled off, why it did not reveal rotten blue instead. Other times, he knew himself to be foolish. Whatever spell Odin had cast upon him, whatever spell was hiding his true nature, it changed the colour, not covered it.

He should ask how it worked, what exactly it had done to his body, but these questions were much easier to face when he was sitting in the darkest corner of the library.

He didn't really know much about frost giants if he were to be completely honest. Monsters, yes, but how do monsters function? He'd assumed his touch froze everything, yet Tony had come away unscathed. He’d assumed, at first, the transformation could only be triggered by the Casket, but he'd done it without any help in a desperate act of self-defence and later while struggling to reach for his magic. The poison had forced him to change as well, or perhaps it had been his own violent emotions? Fear? Despair?

Could he learn to control this?

He buried his fingers into his hair and tugged at the locks. _Monster_. His origins had ruined his entire existence, caused him to be shunned by Asgard and brutally punished by the Chitauri. The blue of his skin was nothing but a curse.

Save for that one time it had kept him from freezing on Earth, kept him alive long enough for Tony to find him...

He sighed. Now was not the time. There was a war hanging over the horizon, and he had to plan and strategize, but he couldn't focus. Thoughts of Tony kept sending pangs of pain through his chest as though there was an invisible string connecting his heart with Tony's and somebody was stubbornly tugging at it. His gaze came to linger on his hand the second he dropped it into his lap again.

Hatred burnt dark inside him.

He couldn't even love Tony properly. He really was a monster. But maybe, just maybe, if he understood how the monster inside him worked, learnt what made it so monstrous, he could kill those parts?

Leaning on his hands, he pushed himself onto his feet. His footprints were barely audible in the large hall, the echoes suffocated by shelve upon shelve of books and scrolls. He let his fingertips trail the shelves and his feet carry him to the far side of the room, dedicated to the less-known realms. Vanaheim and Earth—Midgard—each had its own, larger, section. Somewhat smaller were those of Nidavellir, Svartalfheim and Alfheim. The rest shared a part of one section.

Loki ran his fingers over the book spines. He didn't even have to look to know the records of the entire Great War with Jotunheim were there; his fingertips found _tiwaz_ carves into the leather covers.

There was nothing else, though. Whether it had never been created or either Odin or Bor had ordered it destroyed, Loki didn't know. His heart sank. Surely war records wouldn't contain any particularly useful information... They should, really, because knowing the opponents' physique could only be an advantage, but even if somebody had taken time to study the giants, perhaps even dissect a corpse (which was very unlikely), it had probably been used on the battlefield and then left to fade away. After all, the records were here to sing glory to Asgard, not change those monsters into real, individual beings.

Were they? Were frost giants real, individual beings?

Could they even _not_ be different individuals? Loki knew he was smart and a master of magic, but those could very well be the results of his more civilised upbringing. Surely they must have been, otherwise the Jotnar wouldn't be living like savages, would they?

_He stole their heart._

Loki shook his head as if that could banish all thoughts of blue light—don't, don't generalise, don't think about _them_ —and went to work.

 

~*oO*o*Oo~

 

The Bifrost? Long like that country road Tony had gotten lost on when he'd been twenty. Sure, it was amazing, but that didn't make the walk any shorter or his legs any less tired. The first bursts of enthusiasm he'd felt when he'd set foot on the crystal surface had faded, and so had his conversation with Jane. Tony was only hoping the observatory in front of him would provide some answers about the bridge. And some water; his tongue was practically plastered to the roof of his mouth.

"Hello?" he called out.

A clank of metal came from the inside, and then a man.

"You've come a long way."

"Hoping for answers," Jane said.

"And something to drink," Tony added. "If you have something and wouldn't mind sharing?"

"You are smart, Jane Foster, but there are things even you can't understand." Golden eyes travelled to Tony. "I can give you water. Come inside."

Where was Asgard hiding all that famous alcohol if they had only water to offer him?

"Thanks," he said anyway because he _was_ thirsty. "Can I just... How do you see everything in the Nine Realms? I mean, people need light to see, right? But you're light years away from Earth, for example, so how can you see what's going on there right now?"

Heimdall, leading them into the observatory and to a small door, so ornate Tony could barely tell it from the wall, on one side, gave the inventor a short look. "Your universe and mine—they don't exist on the same plane." Then he disappeared through the door.

Tony turned to Jane. "Magic. Why does everyone attribute everything to magic?"

Sure, it was supposed to be advanced science, but this? What if there really was some kind of magic that was different from science, that defied science's rules?

"Why do we always attribute everything to science?" Jane countered.

"We don't. You have no idea how many people can be tricked with simple, scientific, tricks into thinking they're seeing something otherworldly." He crossed his arms over his chest. “Other than that, we do it because it makes sense. How do you explain that? How can he see without the light even getting here? And don’t tell me it comes through a wormhole. _We_ came through wormholes, but there isn’t—"

Those passages Loki used… But even they needed to be opened by somebody, so light couldn’t just spontaneously travel through, could it?

“—isn’t one now. Unless Heimdall has a tiny little Bifrost ray for peeping through.”

Jane arched her eyebrows and shook her head. Her gaze landed behind Tony, and then followed Heimdall to their side.

“Could you tell us more about the Bifrost?” she asked. “How does it work? How do you activate it?”

“With magic,” came the stoic reply. Heimdall offered each human a cup of water.

“Is there anything… more specific you can tell us? You know how we connect science with magic, and if—”

“Perhaps there are things that are not for you to know.”

Jane shut her mouth and pouted. Tony sipped his water and looked directly into Heimdall’s unnerving eyes.

“How about something else, hm? Tell me about that time Loki tried to kill himself. What happened?”

Something shifted in Heimdall’s eyes just a bit. “I notified the Allfather. He intervened.”

“ _You_ notified Odin?”

“Yes.”

“So you were watching Loki? Enjoying the show?”

“I did not turn my eyes upon the Prince often before that. It was a mere coincidence I saw him. I realised later that I should, perhaps, have watched more carefully.”

A mere coincidence.

All the air left Tony’s lungs.

A mere coincidence that Loki was alive now. What had been the odds…? He’d thought he’d lost Loki, and then he got him back, but to hear now how close he’d come to really spending the rest of his life without Loki in it…

He couldn’t do it again. No matter what Loki had said about too strong attachment, they could figure it out. Together. Because Tony sure as hell wasn’t letting Loki fall into some metaphorical chasm on his own again.

“Did you see… The Chitauri… Could you have seen what they did…?” Just thinking about it made Tony’s stomach rebel.

Heimdall shook his head once. “My gaze does not reach outside of the Nine Realms. Still, I have seen enough of what followed. If you should want to do so, you can let Loki know he has paid enough for attacking me. I consider us even.”

Tony’s hands travelled to his hips. “Yeah? Why don’t you tell him that yourself?”

“I still dislike him, as I am sure he dislikes me.”

“Hm.”

“You should leave now. The Bifrost is not the place for you to stay too long.”

The bridge surely wouldn’t hurt them, but Tony doubted he’d be willing to bear Heimdall’s company much longer.

“Right. Sure. Come on, Jane, let’s go find some food.”

The scientist glanced from him to Heimdall, some question or comment obviously on the tip of her tongue, but nodded her agreement.

“Bye,” she said to the Watchman. Tony didn’t say anything.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

“Loki’s tried to kill himself?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. He’d been wondering how long it would take Jane to ask, and the fact that they’d already got back to the city was quite astounding. She must have been either thinking about something else really hard or convinced the question was rude and considering how Tony would react if she asked it nevertheless.

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“That’s not for me to tell. What do you think, how could Heimdall notify Odin of anything in mere moments?”

Better yet, how had Odin saved Loki then? Just snatched him from midair? With the Cube, or something?

“Magic?” she suggested. “What about those birds? Hugin and Munin?”

“The ravens? Hm.” He was about to start thinking about other theories out loud when an unfamiliar voice reached his ears.

“Hey, there.”

A group of Aesir—four—no, five—was sitting on the stairs leading to a tall, narrow building, and shaded by what could be an oak tree. Their gazes were directed towards Jane. Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Lady Jane, was it?" one of the three blonds asked. "Would you like to keep us company?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I have to get back to the palace."

"Naturally." Blonde number two nudged blonde number one. "Prince Thor is calling, eh?"

Jane pressed her lips together. Tony's gaze darkened even more.

"Mustn’t keep him waiting then. What the Prince wants, the Prince gets, whether the whore is from Asgard or... mortal."

Tony shot the guy a glare and wrapped his fingers around Jane's biceps. "Come on, let's go. They're idiots."

"Oh, you're in a hurry, too? Wait, you're the _other Prince's_ whore, aren't you?"

The group laughed.

"Or is he _your_ whore?" the only redhead in the group asked. "Once an ergi, always an ergi..."

Everything in Tony's body ached to attack, to lunge forward, wrap his hands around the idiot's throat and _squeeze_ , but he'd probably end up hospitalized for a year. Perhaps Loki would kill the guys in retaliation...

A hand landed on his shoulder. Then it was gone and Fandrall stepped past him.

"You would do well to keep such words to yourself, Thorgar. I hear the Princes have ears everywhere."

The redhead lowered his gaze but didn't apologize.

"Perhaps next time you cannot keep your mouth shut, somebody will have to flog you."

"Yes, my Lord." It didn't sound very apologetic, but at least it was something. Tony's fists remained clenched, though, to keep them from trying to strangle anybody. It was bad enough he had to be saved like a child; he didn't need a few broken bones on top of that.

Fandrall slipped between him and Jane and placed an arm around their shoulders, then started leading them away.

"Thank you," Jane said. Tony didn't have it in him to do the same.

"You are most welcome, Lady Jane." He flashed her a smile. "Have you seen Prince Loki?"

"No," Tony said. Okay, maybe he snapped a little. Just a little. Barely noticeably.

Fandrall arched an eyebrow. "He was supposed to come to the council meeting. You don't know where he is?"

"I told you I don't." Definitely snapping this time.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Me?" Tony stopped and shook Fandrall's arm off his shoulders. "You think he hasn't told me anything?"

"And by anything you mean...?"

"Your treason? I though such a crime was punishable by death..." True, he never would have met Loki if things hadn't turned out the way they had, but if that meant Loki wouldn't have had to go through Thanos' torture...

Fandrall’s expression turned serious. "We knew what we were doing and what to expect. We had our reasons."

"Really?"

" We assumed Loki left the frost giants into Asgard. That he was working with Jotunheim."

"And you assumed that because...?"

Fandrall didn't answer.

"Uh-huh. You just assumed it because he was capable of doing it."

"We didn't know he was planning to destroy Jotunheim."

Tony snorted. "Of course you didn't. Why would you?"

Another pause. "I don't have to justify our actions to you."

"You're right." Tony's voice quieted. "Probably because you can't. You can hate Loki all you want to, but you also defied Odin's orders."

"We were doing for Thor what you would do for Loki."

Okay, yeah, apparently running out of the hall after Loki had let the whole Asgard know he was close to the Trickster. But then he'd known it would.

"You're not in love with Thor, are you?"

Fandrall rolled his eyes. "Of course not." He started walking again. "Let's go."

"Fine," Tony grumbled. And then, as a precaution, he added, "Are you going to kill me in my sleep now?"

A short laugh answered him. "I like your spunk. You can stay."

Right. He'd insulted the guy to his face, and that apparently meant he had spunk. Made perfect sense.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Somebody—Thor, that was Thor’s booming voice saying, “Loki! Loki, are you in there? Loki!!!”—banged on the door.

Loki pulled his knees closer to his chest and shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the ice covering the room.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please review :)
> 
> ~shades


	10. Chapter X: Vain, Blood-thirsty Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all about power. The power of patience, of ice, of trust that remains. The power of words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just survived the most exhausting vacation in my life. it's hard to rescue stray kittens when your friends behave like kids... 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reviews and most of all, thank you for putting up with my terrible (non-existing) update schedule. Please bear with me a bit longer.

**Chapter X—Vain, Blood-thirsty Creatures**

 

_Monster (noun): An inhumanly cruel or wicked person._

 

“Did you find him?”

Thor shook his head. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” Sif brought her hands to her hips.

“Aye. I thought I heard some noise coming from his room, but he didn’t answer when I called.”

“He’s _Loki._ ”

Thor frowned. She’d said it as if his name explained everything—and perhaps it did. When had that happened?

Was he truly as blind as his brother claimed?

“Father said he’d agreed to come.”

“He’d agreed to things before,” Volstagg remarked.

Thor frowned. He was just considering whether he should say something or not when his gaze landed on Fandrall approaching from the end of the corridor. Jane and Stark were half a step behind him.

“No sign of our missing Prince?” Fandrall said.

“I think he is in his rooms.”

“Is he not supposed to be there?” Stark asked, coming to stand next to Fandrall. A frown found its way onto his face.

“We are to have a war meeting with the council,” Thor said. Had Stark now known that? Would Loki not have told him?

Stark’s frown deepened. That couldn’t be a good sign; was something amiss between him and Loki?

“And you think he’s in his room?”

Thor nodded.

“Good. I need to talk to him.”

So there _was_ something wrong. Perhaps it would be for the best if Loki found a woman instead of Stark, the way a prince was supposed to, and it wouldn’t be quite so shameful, but Stark seemed to make Loki happy. Most of the time, at least.

“I don’t know what is happening between you two, but if you hurt him, I swear I’ll—”

“End up with your balls forced down your throat, among other things, because that’s what Loki will do to you if you hurt me. Somebody show me the way?”

Had nobody ever taught respectful behaviour to this man?

“Mind your—” He noticed Jane’s stare and clicked his mouth shut. “Follow me.”

Stark _hmph_ ed, causing Thor’s scowl to deepen. Who did the mortal think he was?

But then Jane touched his arm, and he began leading the way. How? How could this be what was best for his little brother? Was a mortal with a big mouth and loose moral truly worth more to him than Asgard’s honour and glory? More than the comrades Loki had fought with for a millennium?

He glanced to the right, catching glimpse of Stark’s determined frown.

How?

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

His fists fell down onto the wood.

“Loki?”

Whatever the reason the god was hiding—there was something wrong. And the idea of not trying to help Loki when he needed support wasn’t one that would cross Tony’s mind. Not now.

“Is everything okay?”

No answer.

Thor pushed past him to the door and banged on it.

“Brother!”

More silence. Thor shook his blond head. “Mayhap he isn’t here.”

It was possible, true, but as far as Tony knew, Loki could keep the door to his chambers closed if he so desired. What sense would it make to let people into the rooms but keep them out of the bedroom if he wasn’t in there? This wasn’t an act of logic; it had to be guided by emotions, and strong emotions at that.

Not a good sign.

“Lo?” He managed to push Thor away and press a hand against the door. “I know you’re here, okay? Can you let me in, please?”

There was another moment of silence, and then a strained replay.

“Go away.”

“Brother—”

Tony threw a glare the Thunderer’s way. “Hush.”

“Don’t tell me to—”

“Shut up, Thor,” Loki snapped. Something wasn’t quite right with his voice. “Get lost, all three of you.”

Something cold coiled in Tony’s stomach. What was he supposed to say? Loki used to come looking for his presence, not shun him. And then, suddenly, it had all turned upside down, and Tony hadn’t even done anything to cause it.

If he’d done nothing wrong, how could he fix it?

Jane squeezed his shoulder. “Good luck,” she whispered, and Tony offered her a small, sad smile. It was good to have her here, to have somebody who could drag Thor away. To have somebody who was human, too.

He waited until the two of them disappeared from his sight, then slid down and settled with his back to the wall.

“Talk to me, babe.”

“What part of ‘get lost’ don’t you understand?”

“The unspoken part. What’s wrong?”

Was he only imagining it, or was _cold_ emanating from the door?

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Can you let me in?”

“You don’t understand!”

Tony’s insides clenched at that tone because he knew it. He’d heard it before, the desperation, the hopelessness.

“I don’t want to share this. It wasn’t supposed to be yours! It’s supposed to be mine and mine alone, but you’ve already—why isn’t there anything… Why do you…”

The words faded to nothing—or drowned in tears. Tony was seriously beginning to hate that door separating them.

“You don’t have to talk. Just let me in. Please, snowflake. I only want to help.”

He didn’t get an answer this time. Sighing, he let his head fall backwards against the wall. Loki would have to get out of the room eventually. Sadly, Tony would probably have to move sooner. He couldn’t physically outlast Loki (it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t go without food or the bathroom the whole day), but he could hope his stubbornness would be enough.

By the time anything happened, Tony had shifted about 77.8 times, and even that couldn’t stop his butt and back from aching. The floor was cold, the walls equally so, and the door—

Was that water trickling out from under the door?

He opened his mouth, but Loki chose that exact moment to speak.

“Why weren’t you repulsed?”

“Hm?” Tony raised his head automatically even though he could still only see the door. “By what?”

“Me. My skin.”

“The Jotun skin, you mean?”

A grumpy hum confirmed it.

“Because you don’t look half bad when you’re blue. Because I have no prejudice against frost giants. You’re still you, no matter what you look like.”

Silence settled over them again. Which was better than outright complaints, right? (Kind of. Maybe.)

“Come in,” Loki suddenly said.

Tony’s eyebrows arched, but he climbed to his feet and pushed the door in. Well, tried to; it felt as if something was hindering the movement of the wood, creating too much resistance for Tony’s strength to be enough. He tried again, and this time the door gave in—although it might have had something to do with the fact that Loki must have pulled it. He was standing in the perfect position for that, hand still on the handle.

“Hey,” Tony managed, his eyes drinking in the irregular splotches of pale on Loki’s blue skin. One of the god’s eyes was green, the other crimson; both were somewhat puffy from crying. His hair was a mess. Patches of ice lay all over the floor, some already melting, and there was a thin layer of enveloping the ornate coffee table (which was probably called something else entirely).

Loki pulled him into the room by the sleeve and shut the door. The moment they were secured inside, he slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor.

“What’s going on?”

Loki shrugged.

“Lo? What were you doing?”

Green eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It didn’t work.”

“Well.” Tony stepped past one of the icy spots and nudged an overturned marble bowl with his toes. “If you were trying to create ice, I’d say it worked.”

Loki snorted. “I thought perhaps this would be something that would feel untouched by you. I was wrong. Of course I was wrong. You’ve seen me this way before. You accepted me this way…” His gaze sank to his hands. “Why do you think you didn’t get hurt when you touched me on Svartalfheim?”

“What do you think?”

Loki shrugged. “I tried to find some information on Jotnar. There isn’t much available. I already knew they can create and manipulate ice at will. They don’t seem to need much sunlight, and it makes sense that they aren’t overly fond of high temperatures.  I can tell you their average size, but this bit of information is perfectly useless. There was nothing about their habits, their mating, what they eat, nothing about… this.” He pointed at the markings on his face. “I don’t even know how much Odin’s spell has changed me. There might be parts of me that differ from the frost giants, parts that aren’t… I’m neither a Jotun nor an Áss.”

“Do you have to be?” Tony moved closer. “I know it doesn’t do wonders for your sense of belonging, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re Loki. And that’s enough. One of a kind, babe.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched weakly.

“So you were trying out your powers?”

A nod. “I never managed to change at will before.”

“Progress. That’s good. And you made ice. That’s pretty impressive.”

“I merely froze the water.” A pause. “I’m tired, Tony. I know I’m not supposed to be talking to you right now. I said I wouldn’t. I know I don’t have to, that I can do this on my own, but…” Loki closed his eyes. “Is it so wrong to choose weakness sometimes?”

Swallowing, Tony squatted down in front of the god.

“You want to hear what I think? Why you didn’t hurt me?” He shifted a bit, finding balance. “It’s because you didn’t want to. I think it’s the intention that counts.”

Loki’s eyes fluttered open. “I wasn’t aiming to hurt you the first time you touched this form.”

“But you were scared of me then,” Tony said quietly. “Everybody aims to hurt in self-defence…” Slowly, he raised his hand. Loki’s eyes widened just a bit, and then Tony’s knuckles brushed against midnight blue skin. Cold sipped into his fingers, sharp and uncomfortable, but not burning. Not hurting.

Loki sucked in a quick breath.

“It doesn’t…” he whispered, coughed, and tried again. “It doesn’t burn?”

“No.” Unlike that first time, blue didn’t start retreating immediately. It only retreated slowly, bit by bit. Perhaps it had to do with Loki’s emotional state, perhaps with the milder temperatures. Either way, it was disappearing. Tony brought his other hand to Loki’s face as well, cupped his cheeks, and found Loki’s lips with his own.

Their breaths mixed when they parted. Loki’s eyes fluttered open, viridian once more.

“See?” Tony held up his palms. “No frostbite.”

Loki nodded. He slumped forward, head falling onto Tony’s shoulder. The inventor wrapped his arms around him.

“Being tired doesn’t make you weak,” he said. “And maybe I’m your weakness, but that doesn’t make you weak, either.”

“You’re going to die.” The god’s voice was flat. “And if I don’t learn to live on my own, I’ll fall apart.”

“And how is pushing me away while I’m still alive any different? We’d both suffer, and I’m not willing to risk losing you again. Apparently, it’s a mere coincidence you’re alive. I’m not inclined to watch you kill yourself again, understand? Cutting me out of your life won’t fix anything. You said I was the centre of your life right now, right? If you rip that away, _everything_ will fall apart. So why don’t you put yourself into the centre right next to me? Do the things you like, do them on your own if you want to, just…

“You tried to explore your Jotun powers today, yeah? That seems like a good start. I know you don’t like your heritage, but if you manage to accept that, you can accept yourself better, and then you might not need me to hold everything up anymore.”

When had he swallowed all that new age wisdom? It seemed logical, though. If Loki were happy with himself, if his happiness were not dependant on Tony, he could find that joy inside him again even if Tony wasn’t there anymore.

Loki just nodded into his shoulder and yawned. At least, it sounded like a yawn. Probably was, too; freezing half of the floor didn’t seem like the easiest thing to do with no practice, even if he’d had water to begin with.

“Why don’t you get some rest and we can talk more later, hm?”

Loki hummed something unintelligible but didn’t object when Tony walked him to the bed or curled up next to him.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

 

The banging on the door came all too soon. Loki groaned in annoyance; the sound got muffled by Tony’s tunic. Whoever it was, they should go away and stop bothering them. Even though he felt guilty about it, he was enjoying having Tony wrapped all around him, the familiar scent filling his nostrils, and he was still exhausted from his earlier attempts at creating ice.

“Loki!”

Marvellous. What had Sif lost here?

“Go away,” he muttered under his breath. 

“We’ve caught Malekith’s spy. The Allfather demands your presence.”

He sat up abruptly. “You caught a spy? Where?”

“He was trying to get into the vault.”

Hm.

“And where is he now?”

“In the dungeons.”

They would be interrogating him, no doubts…

“Thank you,” he said dismissively, hoping Sif would leave him be. He should have known luck was not on his side.

“You skipped the meeting.”

“What is it to you?” he barked. Tony placed a hand on his bicep. It was somewhat soothing, but not nearly enough. The world spun around when he stood up. He’d meant to offer Tony a hand but ended up catching the man’s shoulder for support instead.

“I doubt the Allfather was pleased,” Sif said just as Tony asked, “Are you okay?”

“Leave,” he said shortly—she could not disobey a direct command—and shrugged in response to Tony’s question.

The man sighed. “Why am I even asking…?”

They drank some water before they left. Loki’d made sure his hair was in place and his skin entirely the Aesir pink it was supposed to be. If he held his chin high enough, perhaps he could convince himself he really felt as confident as he looked.

He’d been to the dungeons before, so he paid little mind to his surroundings (only enough to be ready in the face of danger), but Tony kept turning his head, eyebrows raised high.

“I thought it’d be darker here. More… dungeon like. You know, cold, and dripping, and bony fingers clutching the bars.”

“Even a golden cage is still a cage.”

“Point made.”

The prisoner, who, even to Loki’s eyes, looked the same as all the other Dark Elves, was tied to a chair in one of the bright-lit cells. Fortunately, only three people were gathered around him (her?). Unfortunately, these people were Odin, Thor, and Tyr, and if Loki believed it would do him any good, he’s pray to the Norns, or Yggdrasil, or any other higher power there was, to give him energy and patience to survive the encounter.

“Brother.”

Loki clenched his fists. Did Thor _have_ to keep calling him there? Was the oaf so convinced Loki always rebuked him out of spite that he never considered the reason may lie in the pain deep behind Loki’s breastbone?

“Has he talked?” he asked, ignoring Thor.

All three men shook their heads.

“He would, had he been given to me,” Tyr grumbled.

“There is no time,” Odin replied. Judging by the tone, it wasn’t the first time he’d said the same thing. It was understandable as well; Malekith could attack any time now, and the Aesir were all but defenceless against the Dark Elves. The Allfather couldn’t afford to waste any time—and Loki wasn’t present to simply nod and agree.

He resisted the impulse to cross his arms over his chest and took a couple deep breaths instead.

“What do you want me to do?”

Odin stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Force your way into his mind. Can you do that?”

Could he do it? Perhaps, but he would certainly leave a mess, possibly render the Elf insane and useless. If he succeeded, would it be an efficient way to save time and deliver results? No doubt.

He nodded.

“Excellent.”

Loki swallowed. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and Tony’s presence a few steps away, and he could almost feel the hook pulling at his mind and hands clawing at his flesh and methodically breaking away his ribs…

No. He was stronger than that. Yet as he made to step forward, Odin’s hand fell onto his shoulder.

“I know I ask much of you, son. Will you do it?”

As if he had a real choice. If he said no, Asgard would suffer, and while Loki didn’t particularly care about the Aesir, Tony was here, too, and would stay on Asgard as long as Loki would; sending him home would be the best, but Loki was too selfish for that. He could pretend to be well without Tony’s presence when the man was but a few corridors away. If he put entire dimensions between them…

Refusing the Allfather now would be a coward’s move. Loki could stand to be a coward in Asgard’s eyes—but not in his own. He was already so much weaker than he wanted to be, entirely too dependent on somebody else. He couldn’t say no now.

“I will.”

“You’ll what?” Tony spoke. When Loki turned his way, he saw a deep frown on his beloved’s face.

“Nothing dangerous.” Tony would try to stop him if he knew. Perhaps Loki should stop himself…  He clenched his fists. Yes, Tony would stop him, but Loki _had_ to do it. (He didn’t want to.) “Don’t worry.” (The knot in his throat refused to dissolve.)

“Loki, _what_ are you planning?”

He sent Tony a sour smile. “What do you think I’m planning?”

Tony shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t go there.”

Ignoring the words (surely Tony was cursing in his mind now), he strode into the cell.

“I need information,” he told the Dark Elf. “And I’m going to take it.” One way or another. Taking one last deep breath (to calm his heart, calm his racing heart), he tore away the Elf’s mask, and pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Try not to scream too loud,” he said and closed his eyes.

 

~oO*o*Oo*~

 

Interfering with other people’s minds had never been Loki’s forte. He’d been able to install a stray thought, or steal a titbit of information that was swirling right on the surface, but anything else was too dangerous. He hadn’t known how to proceed, nor had he been willing to risk destroying somebody’s mind in the process.

Then his mind had been torn to pieces and patched back together and unravelled again. He still hadn’t tried it on anyone (wouldn’t—shouldn’t ever), but he’d done his best to observe the process despite being on the receiving end.

It was still his worst nightmare. Dreaming of rape might send him out of Tony’s bed in the morning, but having his mind ripped apart made him wake up screaming, covered in cold sweat, and unable to close his eyes for days.

Now, he was about to force his way into somebody else’s mind. He truly was a monster.

Tony would condemn him for that.

And perhaps… Perhaps it wasn’t just about what Tony thought of him. Perhaps that was just the easier reason to cling to. Loki didn’t want to be a monster. His birth made that impossible, and he shouldn’t feel bad because monsters didn’t do that, so it was convenient that Tony should be his conscience.

The only problem was… He’d tried _so hard_ to see what made Frost Giants monsters. Surely if the Aesir were the civilised folk, there must be something they did differently than the Jotnar. He’d searched he war records for anything—and came away empty handed. There were stories about the Jotnar eating each other and their enemies, but no such thing was mentioned in the scrolls. They fought and killed their enemies, they protected their homes, they even burnt their dead—how were they so different from the Aesir?

Tony had said monsters never questioned their actions. Perhaps, for a short while, Loki had thought he didn’t have to, either, because the things he’d done were what monsters did… But the questions had come later. Not necessary the right kind of questions, but there had been questions.

If that set him aside from what Tony said were monsters, if the Jotnar didn’t differ from the Aesir in habits so much as in appearance and fighting abilities, if maybe, just maybe, there was a slight chance Loki could _choose_ whether or not he was really a monster ( _like Thanos. Thanos had been a monster)_ —

Then he did not want to be one.

If he wasn’t a monster, could his behaviour be his choice entirely (his fault only)? Not the result of some predisposition, not something that made no difference at all because he’d never had a chance—

Nevertheless, he still needed to get the information. Whatever he did, it would be immoral. He could dig through the Elf’s mind. Or he could squeeze his own thoughts into the prisoner’s mind. Horrible thoughts, but at least he wouldn’t be boring into somebody’s mind, and the experience would bring up bad memories in either case…

He squared his shoulders and thought of Thanos.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Tony stood at the back of the room, hands clasped behind his back. A long table with chairs on either side connected him with the other side of the room where Odin, Thor, and Loki were seated. He recognised Tyr, Fandrall, and Sif, as well, but his attention was on Loki, who was pale as death and sporting dark circles under his eyes. Tony was pretty sure he’d seen him shivering before.

He hadn’t got the chance to ask about what had happened in the dungeons yet; Loki’s expression had turned to stone, and the Dark Elf suddenly started screaming loud enough that Tony’d wanted to cover his ears. It turned to sobbing and begging and information being given freely. Through it all, Loki didn’t say a single word, and he was sitting silently now, too, staring at the table in front of him with deep wrinkles between his eyebrows.

Tony was trying to follow the conversation—if it could be defined as conversation. People were raising their voices and swinging their arms, and Tony was sure mugs would be flying around if they were close enough for the Aesir to grab. This was supposed to be a council? Then again, he’d seen politicians scrolling though 9gag in the middle of an assembly…

What he had managed to gather, though, was that the Elves were planning an attack just before dawn, that their ships could turn invisible, and Asgard was all but defenceless. It was still unclear where Loki came into the mix or why he was so important, but now wasn’t the time to ask. The shouting had grown louder, causing the vein on Tony’s forehead to throb, and he wasn’t even involved in the argument or saving his own world (he’d done enough of that in the past, thank you very much). He heard Loki’s name spoken a couple times, and if he caught it right, somebody mentioned the Tesseract. Nevertheless, Tony lacked information and that just wouldn’t do. He was just about to step forward and sew the hole in his knowledge when Loki’s voice snapped through the room.

“Enough!” His fist slammed against the table and he stood up. “You desire to know if we can win? Then ask yourself that. Ask yourself why you want fight this war.”

The chair rattled when he pushed it further away and started pacing like a lion in a cage. One of the council members opened his mouth, words already forming on his tongue, but then the Trickster’s green eyes narrowed in a glare.

“Be quiet,” he hissed. “You’re like a group of boys arguing over a ball. It is all a game to you, all about who gets to score the goal.”

Seemed like a pretty accurate description. Tony could practically see a bunch of Thors fighting each other for the honour of striking against the Dark Elves first. Never mind that the Elves could just slaughter the Thors in the meantime... And why was he even imagining a world with more than one Thor? Ugh.

“I know you don’t want me here.” Loki clasped his hands behind his back and continued pacing up and down, his movements slow and precise. “You probably think you don’t need me. Not you, the great warriors of Asgard. Why would you need an ergi to help you? Oh, _please_ ,” he snapped when murmur swept through the group. “I hear the things you whisper behind my back. But let me tell you something. You are not almighty, you are not invincible, you are _not_ strong. You are weak! Pathetic! Vulnerable, and breakable, and this close”—he held his forefinger and thumb about an inch apart—“to being broken! Flies waiting to be squashed, ants to be stepped on and forever forgotten. You are _nothing_ to the universe!

“You say war is unavoidable. Wrong.  This battle is unavoidable, fighting when they attack is unavoidable, but you don’t want to stop there. Oh, no! You would travel to their world and destroy every last one of them and tear the planet apart even after it had already died. You don’t fight to protect your home, to keep your families, you loved ones safe, or because fighting till your last dying breath is the only way you might ever see the sun rise again or dream of peace again. None of you _ever_ fight because of that.  Instead, you desire war for the sake of war. You _crave_ battle and dream of songs composed about your victories so that the number of lives your swords tore out would forever remain carved in the collective consciousness and you would be crowned heroes. You want to remind the Dark Elves of ‘their place’ and dub them monsters once more! You are vain, blood-thirsty creatures, unaware how big of a privilege it is to lead a life where honour is still something more than an empty concept of ages long gone!”

Something dangerous flashed through Loki’s eyes. It made Tony want to run away screaming and pull Loki close at the same time. Whatever the Trickster had done in the dungeons, it had stirred something dark inside him.

“There is nothing glorious about slaughter, about pain and rotting flesh, no odes to be sung about the gallons of blood you spit out in agony, nothing reasonable when the value of acts of kindness so meagre they would have been overlooked any other day surpasses the capacity for gratefulness, and no fairness in how cruelly such acts are punished!

“You want to destroy the Dark Elves forever? You cannot! You cannot, for they will fight, not to conquer, as they do now, but to survive! Asgard will be the one to burn! It _can_ , and it _will,_ unless you fight for it! Not for honour and glory, but in any way you can, so that Valaskjáf and Hlidskjaf may stand another day, another hour if it comes to that! If you want to win, you will fight for whatever you have left, for everything and everyone you hold dear, for the ones you have yet to love in the days to come, and you will _keep fighting_ when you feel you have nothing left to stand for! If your honour gets trampled and you are no longer capable of anything save biting like a dog—then, by the Nine, _you shall bite_!!!”

Loki’s chest was heaving, eyes dark and wild, and Tony remembered, after a long time, why the god was to be feared.

“I am to secure us victory in this combat, yet nobody would consider placing me in front of an army to lead it. Well, I do not desire an army.  I am not asking you to fight _for_ me, nor am I asking you to fight _with_ me. I am not _asking_ anything at all. I’m _telling_ you: if you can’t muster the humility to listen, then you better stay out of my way. There are things on this piece of rock I desire to protect, and I will not see them go down in flames. But if you can pull your heads out of your asses”—and Tony was unreasonably proud to hear Loki use phrases so typical for Earth and even more for the speech he’d just delivered—“and perhaps even find a sliver of heart somewhere inside of you, then you can win this fight and Asgard shall stand in her glory.”

For a moment, there was silence.

And then the room burst with voices.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. You get a jar of Nutella if you review? Maybe?
> 
> Stay awesome.
> 
> ~shades


	11. Chapter XI: Queen's Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's field-trip time in Asgard. Not so much deep-profound-discussion time. Perhaps not even napping time. But most definitely not deep-profound-discussion time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'll just leave this here and go hide in a corner for busy *cough* lazy *cough* writers...

**Chapter XI–Queen’s Legacy**

_Seer (noun): A Person of supposed supernatural insight who sees visions of the future._

 

Hlin tucked one of the strands that had escaped her braid behind her ear. Concentration cut deep lines into her sun-kissed forehead as she submerged her right arm deeper into the water, anticipating.

 Her hand had grown numb. She waited another moment before she pulled it out, shook the water off, and started rubbing life back into it. Munin was perched on the edge of the fountain next to her—on the edge of Frigga’s fountain, which was, perhaps more than anything with the exception of her two boys, the Queen’s legacy. She hadn’t had time to say anything before she’d died, or perhaps she had chosen not to speak—that Hlin could only guess. Neither did she know whether Frigga had had a premonition concerning her own death. Considering her Seeress abilities, she might have been well aware of all the details of her death. It was more likely she had only glimpsed a moment of that tragedy. If that had been the case, had Frigga tried to avoid her own death, or had her death been the consequence of trying to alter the future circumstances?

The glimpses of the future Frigga used to have were practically unavoidable; there had been perhaps two or three times since the beginning of time that the events hadn’t come to pass. But there was something else Hlin had learnt from the Queen: jumping to conclusions about the context or the circumstances of these visions was foolish. The obvious explanation was not always the right one. The future was not truly set in stone.

Hlin sighed. If only Frigga had been allowed to speak of her visions, mayn things might have gone differently. She had been permitted to take unexplained action, but she’d only been one person, and even with Hlin, Gna, and Fulla—her friends and attendants who’d learnt to recognise vision-based behaviour—to help her, she could only do so much.

Perhaps the Queen’s death had already been altered. Perhaps there had been no premonition. Norns knew Hlin had spent too many hours wondering. If Frigga had known she was going to die, she could have left a message, perhaps instructions of a kind, or simply her goodbyes.  Or… she might have chosen to leave a message through the _absence_ of a message. After all, the utter lack of words about the past, of apologies long overdue, of old stories, could only mean Frigga hadn’t wanted anyone to focus on the past. The only thing left to focus on was the future.

Then again, Hlin could be looking for symbolism where there was none. Perhaps it did not matter. The Queen had always been taking care of the future, and her wishes concerning the days to come had always been known.

Protecting her family and her world.

Maintaining peace.

Offering love and forgiveness.

And Hlin—Hlin had been a protector for a long, long time, first of the people Frigga had held dear, then of the entire realm, and now—of the future. Separate from the Council, from Odin’s golden chambers, were those who moved behind the scenes but ultimately addressed the people in ways that mattered—from their hearts—and would do what needed to be done.

Frigga had understood that and had been smart enough to ensure her ways would endure. Her legacy lived on, and she hadn’t needed to breathe a single word when the light was fleeing her eyes.

“Can we do anything?” Fulla asked from the stairs that led to the balcony.

Hlin wiped her hand into her skirts. Gna said down next to Fulla.

“Prince Loki has a plan,” she said. She’d returned from the Council meeting moments ago. It had made matters easier when the Allfather had allowed her to take Frigga’s place there; she’d been the Queen’s ambassador before.

“What kind of plan?” Fulla asked.

Gna shrugged, picking at the sleeves of her dress. “He didn’t say, but he was adamant that people should stay out of his way. He doesn’t seem to care for support. Whatever he’s planning, he must be able to succeed on his own.”

_No_ , Hlin though, but her vocal chords refused to form the sounds. A picture was etched into her mind, one of Loki bleeding blue light that had the power to level the Nine Realms and would do so if left uncontrolled.

 

 

~oO*o*Oo*~

 

“That was crazy in there.  I’ve seen politicians fight, trust me, but the amount of noise you guys can produce…”

“We’ve less than a day to finish the preparations,” Loki said, dragging his feet. He’d been looking like death warmed over (possibly in a toaster) before; now it was even worse. Tony just wanted to get him away from all the arguing and shouting. He’d offer to help the god walk if he wasn’t sure Loki would refuse.

“Yeah… Like I said—crazy. But you were awesome.”

No response.

“Listen, though. What made you decide for war? You weren’t sure before, and now you’re standing right in the middle of it. Why?”

They came around the last corner and Loki pressed his palm to the door to his rooms.

“I am perfectly capable of fighting.”

“Of course you are. Nobody said anything else.”

It was his fault, wasn’t it? Why else would Loki not tell him? He’d come to some reckless, foolish conclusion while they weren’t talking, and now he was going to risk his life because of it.

Loki pressed his lips together, and yeah, Tony was so right. “You don’t have to prove that to anyone. Seriously. And you don’t have to go to war to prove to yourself you don’t need me—”

“Tony.” Loki pushed open the door to his bedroom. “Not now,” he murmured. “I can’t. I can’t anymore.”

“Okay.” He did look terrible, after all, and Tony was pretty sure he was right. So he wrapped his arm around Loki, and together they sat down onto the bed, and collapsed onto their backs, and lay in silence for a while.

Tony broke the silence. “What did you do to that Elf?”

Loki pressed his lips together and took a breath. “I made him live through my memories.”

His—oh.

“You… can do that?”

“Apparently.”

He didn’t push any further, and they fell back into silence.  Tony’s gaze began following the curving lines of the reliefs on the ceiling, turning up and down and into themselves, until he realised he was observing a tree that almost seemed to be swaying in the wind…

He opened his mouth to ask if he was looking at Yggdrasil when Loki sat up with a sharp inhale.

“The apples.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Idun’s apples. If I can get her to give you her apples, than you need not die so soon. You could stay with me.”

Tony arched his eyebrows. That was sudden.

“They would make me immortal?”

“No. Merely lengthen your lifespan.”

He sighed. “You do know what you’re asking me, right?”

Propped on one hand, Loki turned his body towards him. “Spend your life with me.”

“Yes… But you’re also asking me to leave everything else behind.”

Loki’s face closed off. “You don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to stay with you, but the price would be high. My friends, my home… Hell, even my world, or do you think we could peacefully stay there for the next few thousand years?”

“So you don’t want to.”

“Hey, hold your horses. I never said that. It’s not something to decide in a moment. The other way for you not to live way longer than me would be to make you mortal, and you wouldn’t agree to that just like that if I brought it up, right?”

Loki averted his gaze. “My magic…”

“I know. I’m not asking you to give it up.” He couldn’t demand something so horrible of Loki. “I’m just telling you I would need time to decide, and I would need to be sure you’re asking for the right reasons. If I were to stay with you… I would need to know you don’t want me to stay merely because you think you can’t live without me, you understand? If I ate the apple… The only way this were a good idea would be if we both knew we could live without each other just as well, and even then…” He shook his head. “I would need time.”

Loki looked back at him. His eyes ware piercing, boring deep into Tony’s very core, and the inventor felt so very naked under that gaze…

“Forget I asked,” the god deadpanned.

“Snowflake…”

“No,” he said, then with a bit more softness, “enough about this now.” With that, he lay back down, turned away from Tony, and remained still.

This wasn’t going well at all.

He didn't know if Loki had fallen asleep, but when he leaned over him, the god’s eyes were closed. A soft sigh escaped Tony’s lips.

"I love you, you fool," he murmured. But could he leave everything behind for Loki? What would they even do? Stay on Earth where at least Tony would have to fake his own death and then keep moving around? Not that he was too big on friends, but always leaving everyone and moving on? Of course he couldn't tell anyone... Unless realm-to-realm communication advanced exponentially and people would know about the whole Asgard business. Even then, it would still be different. Accepting there were beings, practically gods, who lived for millennia was one thing. Seeing a human join them? That would not only cause many to throw hissy fits, it would also make it clear that there truly was something that could grant virtual immortality, and Tony could see no way this would end well. Could one simple decision of a single human (though, admittedly, an important human) alter the whole course of the future?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

What if he and Loki didn't stay on Earth? But where would they go? To Asgard where Loki was hated and Tony would likely become, too? Or some other realm Tony didn't even know?

No. He didn't want that. No matter how much humanity sometimes sucked, Earth was his home, the familiar territory. Not that he wouldn't enjoy seeing other worlds, but there was a big difference between endlessly travelling and having a home to come back to.

He needed answers from Loki, needed explanations and support and the knowledge of what Loki would be willing to sacrifice. Instead, he had an exhausted god who was fraying at the edges and took Tony's lack of enthusiasm as a personal rejection. Not to mention there was a battle coming in less than twelve hours, Loki definitely wasn't supposed to be sleeping, and Tony still had no idea what he should do in the fight.

He was aware his body should be getting hungry about now, but the coldness in the pit of his stomach made it hard to think about food. He was having a bit of a problem thinking about anything that wasn't related to longevity, really. The fact the coming battle was just one more chance for him to die didn't make things any better. These could be the last minutes of privacy he'd ever had with Loki.

His throat closed up.

"Loki?"

No reply.

"Are you awake? Because if you are, I really need to talk to you."

Still nothing. Loki was probably fast asleep, and Tony wasn't sure he had the heart to wake him after all this day had forced the god through. On the other hand, he wanted Loki to know some things.

He settled for kissing Loki's cheek. "I love you," he murmured again, somehow hoping Loki could still hear him on some deep level of his subconscious mind. "Not that I'm so easy to kill, but if I bite the dust this time... I don't know if there's anything waiting for me after death, but if there is, maybe you'll find me there. You'll find me, won't you?"

He swallowed.

"Or maybe I'll manage to come back to you. I don't want to leave you, Lo."

Perhaps he would have said more had the soft knock on the door not broken the silence. Frowning at the door, he swiped at his eyes. How could somebody knock on the bedroom door if the front door to Loki's rooms (more like a presidential suite) was locked?

The mattress bounced back into its original shape without a sound when Tony's weight left it. Trying to walk just as soundlessly, he crossed the space to the door and opened it.

Nobody was there. What the hell? Was he imagining things now?

A second later, the knocking was back, and maybe this was some magic trick, carrying the sound from somewhere else. The front door, perhaps?

He ran a hand though his hair and tried that door, too, only to find Hlin standing outside. Her hair was pulled away from her face and the robes she'd worn last time had been ditched in favour of an armour made of silver metal and dark leather.

“You need to come with me.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Please. There is someone you need to meet.”

He crossed his arms, unconvinced. “I think where I need to be is right here, so that I can help Loki fight Odin’s war.”

Hlin hesitated for a moment.  “Do you know what Loki is planning?” she said at last. “What everyone else is planning?”

“I’ll find out eventually.” He pouted. It stung a little, being reminded of his ignorance. He wasn’t all that important in Asgard.

“And if it’s too late then?”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, too late?”

She shook her head, and why the hell wouldn’t she answer? As if he would listen to somebody who was doing nothing but spewing cryptic hints.

“Trust me. “

“Right. Of course.”  She’d been nice before, but there was a battle coming, and he needed to stand at Loki’s side. He wouldn’t risk losing him again.

“Idun,” Hlin said. “That’s where I’ll take you.”

“Why?”

“Do you believe in faith, Tony Stark?”

“No. I heard even the Norns said the future wasn’t set in stone.”

“Some things are.”

“But not all.”

“No. Not all.”

“Great. Awesome. I’m really glad we agree on that, but why is it important again?”

“Because we’re going to prove it.”

“And we’re going to see Idun because…?”

Hlin pressed her lips together. “Listen to me. I asked you nicely, but I can drag you with me screaming and kicking, too, and I will do it if that’s what it takes to get my job done.”

Right. Protecting people. Was she trying to lead him away to keep him safe? But why wouldn’t she say so? Also, he wasn’t a helpless child; he could fight. Did she think he couldn’t? Or did she know something he couldn’t understand yet? What had all that destiny crap been about?

“And Loki? Will you protect him, too?”

She nodded. Tony wanted to ask how, since she wouldn’t be there, but maybe they would return soon enough. Or maybe he just wanted to believe her.

“Okay, fine. I’m coming with you. Let me get my suit.”

 

~oO*o*Oo*~

 

Ten minutes later, they were striding down one of the numerous corridors. Nobles, servants, and peasants alike hurried back and forth. Tony hadn’t seen so many people in the palace before, especially not children.

“Battle preparations?”

Hlin hummed in affirmation.

Tony noticed a familiar face in the crowd at about the same time as he was noticed, too.

“Stark!” Jane waved over a few heads, said something to the Aesir woman next to her, and hurried over to them. “Please tell me you weren’t told to ‘go to safety’?” She drew quotation marks in the air.

“No. We’re going on a field trip.”

“Great. I’m coming with you.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest—but he could find no reason to. He sure as hell wasn't telling Jane to sit this one out. Perhaps he would have if this was Earth, but it was Asgard, and the Aesir already thought humans weak. Anything they could do to prove them wrong was okay with him. So he turned to Hlin, and she nodded, and a devilish smile spread over Jane's face.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Loki awoke to an empty room and a note beside his head.

_Out with Hlin. Don't worry, I’ll be fine._

He sighed. If Tony didn't want to be around him, Hlin was not the worst company to be in, and Loki had other matters to focus on. So many other matters. Most definitely.

He washed quickly and dressed into black pants and a soft tunic that would go under his armour. He was just closing the buckles on a sturdier leather tunic that went over the first when magic transmitted a hasty knock to him. Pausing only for a second, he allowed whoever was out there entrance; it had to be either Tony or somebody bearing news about the battle.

He got up to meet the guest in the parlour; seeing Fandrall walk in proved his theory.

"Yes?"

"The Allfather said you were planning to use the Tesseract. It's madness, but you can count on my help."

Loki's eyebrows arched. "I neither need nor desire your help." Why should Fandrall wish to offer assistance in the first place?

"Perhaps not, but as I understand it, the Allfather is relying heavily on your success. Somebody should make sure you really do succeed. That and..." He paused and smoothed out a non-exist t wrinkle on what little fabric could be seen through his armor. "You might... What you said may be true. To some degree, of course."

"Mostly, you're just convinced I have the best chances of winning this, and you're choosing to be on the winning side."

Fandrall glanced down, then looked back at Loki. "No offense, but I would prefer to see us win. If you're the one who can do it, then I had better make sure nothing happens to you. Gna is helping as well, and perhaps one or two other soldiers I trust."

As if that should mean something. Loki didn't trust anyone on this realm to truly have his back. He could do this alone. Unfortunately, controlling the Tesseract would require a lot of concentration. It _would_ be easier to have someone guard his back.

Then there was Gna. First Hlin had gone somewhere with Tony (when were they returning? Why didn't Tony say when they were returning?), and now Gna was going around gathering a team? Were Frigga's friends planning something? They _had_ always known too much...

"Fine," he ground out. "But you and whoever else you bring listen directly to me. If anyone endangers the mission, they will be removed. Understood?"

"Yes, my prince."

Loki couldn't help thinking Tony would tell Fandrall to shove ‘his prince’ where the sun don't shine.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

It was already dark when Jane pulled her cloak tighter around herself and sat down in the back of the sky glider. She had accepted the name Hlin had used, as opposed to Stark, who continued to blabber about floating boats.

Tuning him out, Jane turned her gaze towards the deep purple hues in the sky, so dark they were almost black, and the splatters of golden light amid them. The difference to Earth's atmosphere was striking. If only somebody could explain it in Earth's scientific language instead of going on about magic. As interesting as that was, it didn't enable her to either confirm or discard her theories.

"You know Thor will probably be looking for you," Stark said, and Jane tore her gaze from the sky to focus on him.

"As Loki will for you."

"I left him a note. You came on an impulse without even knowing we're going to Idun."

He sat down left from Jane. His armour was resting at his feet in the suitcase form; Hlin must have reassured him he wouldn't need it so soon. Jane wasn't sure if that made her feel safer or less protected. She didn’t like the idea of Stark's needing the suit sometime later, either.

"Why are we going to visit her again?"

Tony had told her what the end station of the trip was (presumably; Jane wasn't completely sure even Tony knew whether visiting Idun was truly the one and only purpose Hlin had in mind), but he'd given no reason for the journey or why they were going now. True, Thor wanted Jane safe, having sent her (after she'd refused to return home via bifrost like a one-night-stand he could ditch) to the deeper palace circles where children, the elderly, and some women—others would be out there, making a stand—were supposed to gather. Perhaps Stark would have been suggested to join them, too. He certainly wouldn't listen. Either way, none of them might survive in the end. Perhaps they would be safer with Idun, wherever that was. If so, was it only safer there if nobody else joined them?

She understood they had a special standard, firstly because they were the princes' lovers, and secondly because they were mortal, considered frail(er) and not burdened with the Aesir honour code. Nevertheless, she wished all the other people in Asgard could be safe, too.

"Excellent question." Stark turned to Hlin, who was silently steering the sky glider away from the palace and the city. "Why _are_ we going to Idun?"

Hlin glanced at him, her lips pressed in a serious line. She took a breath and opened her mouth.


	12. Chapter XII: Tell You What She Saw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s road trip doesn't go as expected, and nobody really understands what Loki is attempting to do anyway.

**Chapter XII—** **Tell You What She Saw**

_Fate (noun): the development of events outside a person’s control, regarded as predetermines by a supernatural power._

 

 

The training grounds were thronged with Aesir. Most were men, but Loki could see some women from where he’d come to stand on the balcony. Just like the men, the Asynjur stood tall and proud, in gear from head to toe. The arms resembled a sea of metal and leather that clanked instead of whispering like the waves would when they caressed the shore.

Thor was standing at the front on the balcony, hands resting on the balustrade. He couldn’t have heard Loki’s soundless footsteps, yet he turned after only a few long breaths had passed.

It was maddening that a certain connection persisted between them despite Loki’s previous attempts at severing it.

“Brother—” Thor started, then pressed his lips together. “Loki.”

Perhaps he was capable of learning after all. Who would have thought?

“Thor,” he replied.

“I heard Fandrall decided to fight by your side.”

“For purely selfish reasons, I assure you.”

Thor traced the edge of the balustrade with his fingers. His gaze returned to the field below.

“Are you certain you don’t require more warriors?”

“It is not a job for a group.”

“No. It is not.”

Thor turned and made a step towards Loki, then stopped as if he had remembered something. “Are you sure about…?”

“Yes.”

“You’re dealing with the Tesseract. The knowledge of how to use it has been all but lost to us.”

“I have enough.” At least he had to believe so. If stopped, if he let himself doubt…

“Be careful, Loki.”

Loki frowned. “I have no intention of getting harmed.” Why did that oaf keep worrying about him? Why did he insist on showing affection?  Why did he care at all?

Why could Loki not stop caring about him?

“Please.”

Thor closed the distance between them, hand coming up towards Loki’s neck in a gesture that was so familiar to them both, but stopped in midair.

_(Why? Why did he care?)_

Loki’s fingers twitched and he reached out.

_(He hated.)_

On an impulse, he grasped Thor’s forearm.

_(He cared. He cared, he cared, cared he cared caredcaredcared…)_

“Lead them well,” he said. “So there will be stories to tell for eternity.”

“Perhaps the triumph should be yours.”

His lips curved into a smile as he shook his head. “It is not for me, Thor. Never for me.”

Their gazes met. “You may be the one to save the Realms.”

“Perhaps.”

He didn’t say that once, together with Tony, he already had been.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Wind ruffled Hlin’s hair as she pressed her lips together. Parted them again.

"Idun grows the golden apples."

Tony resisted an eyeroll. "We don't need the apples right now."

Yet another few seconds passed before Hlin replied. "They are the most powerful medicine in existence."

Huh. That was news.

"Aren't they just for longevity? Making you near immortal?"

Hlin shook her head. "They have wonderful healing properties. Their juice is one of the ingredients for healing stones."

Tony had absolutely no idea what healing stones were, but at least it wasn't hard to guess what they were for. Jane seemed to be familiar with them, though; she nodded, humming in affirmation.

He leaned towards her. "You've seen that woo-woo?"

"Mm-hmm. One of the healers showed me."

"Well, what does it look like?"

Jane gave him a strange look. "Like a stone?"

"Oh. I thought they'd be more...magicy."

"Sorry to disappoint. Why are you asking _me_ all this?" She glanced towards Hlin, who was observing them with a shadow of a smile on her lips. As if Tony didn't know the goddess would know more about Aesir medicine. She couldn't describe it from an outsider's point of view, though.

"I don't understand something," he said, and this time it was directed at Hlin. "I get how medicine would be useful on a battlefield, but if these healing stones are in the palace, why are we going to Idun?"

“Only her apples can cure a dying man.”

Tony waited for her to elaborate, but there was nothing, only wind cooling his skin and the near-darkness all around them.

“Don’t you have the same apples in the palace?”

Hlin nodded but turned away. A remark died on Tony’s lips when he saw she steered the flying boat thingie into a different direction, though how she knew when to do it, he had no idea; the grounds beneath them were covered with forest that spread like an endless blanket without distinguishing patterns.

“There is one difference, though,” Hlin said as she turned back to Tony, apparently satisfied with the boat’s course. “Idun has… a connection with nature, with the _essence_ of nature. A special kind of magic that she can imbue the apples with—”

“But it’s not permanent?” Tony cut in.

“Oh, it is. She merely chooses not to do it.”

“Why not?” Jane asked.

“It’s quite a story. But we have time, and perhaps you should know of it. Idun is… inherently connected to Asgard, to its nature and magic. Some say the land listens when she whispers to it, and there are even rumours the essence of her spirit is one with Asgard. I have not heard Idun confirm or deny that. What I do know is that she is old and powerful in ways where Odin is perhaps less so, and we need her. Our medicine greatly relies on her apples, but only those she offers imbued with her own magic can cure a dying man.  She was willing to share such apples long ago until she withdrew from the city. She accepts the company of but a few these days.”

“Why did she leave?”

“There is no official answer.  We leave her alone lest she withdraw the apples she still gifts us with.”

Perhaps she got tired of Asgard’s obsession with muscles and killing, Tony thought as he leaned against the side of the boat and glanced overboard.

“And the unofficial version?” he asked.

“She had a fight with Odin.” Hlin turned the rudder (or whatever it was called on space boats) again.  “Her contribution is greatly undervalued. Allegedly, she said until Odin publicly apologised for taking her for granted, the Aesir would not see her life-giving apples again. If somebody asks, you have not heard this from me.”

“Of course,” Tony said as Jane nodded.  “We heard nothing.”

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

After a while—Tony would have guessed about two hours in which he was very thankful for the suit keeping him warm and becoming increasingly curious about some strange dark shape looming on the horizon—Hlin directed the flier towards the ground. The roar of falling water reached Tony’s ears as they descended. Hlin led the flyer between the trees until they finally parted, making way for a clearing, and there, in the middle, grew the largest tree Tony had ever seen (and that was saying something considering he’d driven through that sequoia trunk with his Audi).

“We’re here,” Hlin said.

“Really?” Was this a Disney cartoon or something? “Idun lives in a _tree_?”

Ignoring him, Hlin strode to the trunk, becoming a dark shadow on an almost as dark background. Tony glanced towards Jane. He couldn’t see her expression, but he could tell she was looking at him, too.

“Shall we?” she asked, wrapping her cloak tighter around her body.

He nodded. “Has Thor ever mentioned the apples to you? In a non-healing way?”

“No.” She sounded thoughtful. “Has Loki?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” He paused. “Would you choose to stay behind and let everybody go?” _Please_. _Is it worth it?_

“I don’t know.” Jane’s voice was soft. “Would you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, either. Forever is a long time. Perhaps too long.”

“I hope Hlin didn’t bring us here to decide.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief; at least he was not alone in his confusion. “You and me both. Shall we?”

Nodding, Jane took his hand. He couldn’t feel her grip through the armour, nor her warmth, but he held on as they walked to the tree.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Loki stood in the shadows, alone. Blue light was casting shadows over his face, hands hovering above it. He remembered another time, distant as if it had been ages ago, standing in front of a different glowing box, about to seal his fate. His hands had trembled then; they were trembling now.

The Tesseract.

As keen as he’d been to possess it on Earth, he would have preferred to stay far away now. It was too powerful, too closely connected to Thanos…

He shook his head. Thanos didn’t matter now. Loki didn’t have to surrender to the power of Tesseract; he could control it, keep it from devouring his mind.

It would be nothing like Thanos’ torture.

He swallowed and moved his hands through the air in a sweeping motion so they crossed in the air. One moment, the Tesseract was there, the next it was tucked away in his pocket of space.

A sigh escaped him. The last time he’d been in the vault, he’d lost his family. Against his will, his gaze wandered to the pedestal that held the Casket of Ancient Winters. He could feel it hum, sing to his blood; it had been silent when he’d first touched it, but he must have tuned into it in some way when he’d been keeping it in his pocket of space. It felt familiar now, although a part of him still hated it with all its might.

Slowly, he walked across the vault, closer to the source of the call. His magic stirred in response, and he found himself reaching out, fingertips brushing the smooth surface, and a strange surge of feelings washed over him even as blue bled over his skin.

This was his. His birthright. His possession.

His curse.

And perhaps… Perhaps his duty. Perhaps he could use this power for something other than destruction…

He pulled his hand away from the glowing box. He had a job to do.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Idun...was not what Tony had expected. He figured somebody with access to the closest thing there was to eternal youth would look appropriately young. Not that she didn't. But she also looked old. There was something about her that would have made it impossible for Tony to guess her age, even if only the human equivalent of it. She wore a knee-length dress with leather leggings and boots underneath it, and although it framed her body nicely, there was no mistaking how perfectly the shape of the dress would allow movement if necessary. Her hair was white, contributing to the impression of old age, and fell brained over her left shoulder. The light spilling out from behind her was warm and welcoming.

"Lady Idun." Hlin bowed her head. Tony supposed he should do it, too, but obeying had never been his cup of tea, so he observed Idun instead; her eyes spoke of recognition, but no particular fondness.

"Lady Hlin," she returned. "I hope you did not come here for what I am unwilling to give."

"I did not. Lady Idun, these are Jane Foster and Anthony Stark of Midgard."

Eyes narrowing, she cocked her head in silence. Her gaze was intense in a way that wasn't entirely unlike the sharpness of Loki's eyes. Perhaps it was a cultural thing.

"Humans," she said at last, and if Tony wasn't mistaken, she was the first Ass to not call them mortals. Which was a nice change, really. Deserved a golden star. "It has been too long. Please, come in."

Entering a tree would have been on Tony’s bucket list if he’d had one. Perhaps he should create it, because this was definitely an experience worth a few hours of freezing on a flying boat. There was _a forest inside a freakin’ tree!_ Plants growing everywhere, moss softening their steps, flowers blooming on the walls. Where the light was coming from, he had no idea, but it was warm and soft like a caress of a setting sun. A trunk ( _was there another tree in here?!?)_ rose towards the ceiling made of intertwined branches and twigs, and a staircase wound around it. At least the furniture seemed to be made and not naturally grown.

“Incredible,” Jane voiced his thoughts.

“Thank you. Please, sit.” Idun gestured towards a small table at the side and the bank behind it, attached to the wall. She chose a chair on the opposite side. Hlin remained standing at the side, hands clasped behind her back. Why _had_ she dragged them here? Idun’s home was fascinating, but admiring the scenery sure as hell couldn’t be the point of the visit.

“Anthony Stark.”

His head jerked back to Idun.

“The human who opposed the Allfather and won. Impressive.”

“Thank you.” How had she heard about that?

“And Jane Foster, who captured the Prince’s heart. Has Thor sent you here?”

Jane shook her head. “He’s preparing for battle.”

“Then why have you come?” Idun turned to Hlin. “To keep them safe?”

Gaze directed towards the floor, Hlin shook her head. “There might not be a safe place on Asgard or anywhere else when the morning comes.”

“Aren’t you a pessimist,” Tony grumbled. “I’m sure Fabio can kill a few elves, Malekith included. No Malekith means no one to control the Aether, right?”

“This isn’t about Thor,” Hlins snapped back, then bit her lips. She opened her mouth once more, but nothing came out. Her brow furrowed in frustration, and she balled her fists. “I would ask you to make an exception, Lady Idun. All we need is one apple.  For Stark’s sake.”

“Wait a second! I didn’t come here for apples! I don’t want the apples! Sure, Loki might have asked me to eat one, but that doesn’t mean I find immortality any more appealing or that I’ll do it. How do you even know about that? Were you spying on us?”

“I didn’t—” Hlin started, but Idun raised a hand and the goddess fell silent.

“You don’t find immortality alluring?”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Alluring? Yes. Something I would want? No.”

“And why is that?” Idun asked slowly, leaning towards him. Her gaze was unnerving.

“Maybe it’s just my mortal mind speaking, but wouldn’t immortality take the sense away from life? What makes us get up in the morning, what drives us, it’s the knowledge that time will run out at some point. If we had an eternity, why even bother with anything when there would always be tomorrow? Surely things could wait then. Life would _stagnate_. And that’s just generally speaking. Don’t even get me started on watching everybody die and having to fake my own death every couple of decades or so.”

“But you are considering prolonging your life?”

“Yeah.”

“And you?” Idun looked at Jane.

“I don’t know. It hasn’t come up yet.”

“Interesting.” Idun clasped her hands on the table. Her gaze softened. “We may have to talk about this again.”

“Yeah. Incredibly fascinating.” He was so sick of everyone treating him like a rarity, conspiring behind his back, and not telling him anything. “How about you people stopped sounding smart, and spying on me, and damaging Loki even more?” Simply being in Asgard was doing something bad to the god, as if the mere air here was poisonous.

“I wasn’t spying on you.” Hlin finally managed to cut in. “I didn’t know Loki offered the apples to you.”

“Then why did you bring me here? Why do _I_ need an apple?”

“I told you they were medicine.”

“And?” He was so done with all this Aesir crap. “Can’t you give me a straight answer?!”

“No! I can’t!” He lips kept moving, but nothing came out at first. “Curse it, I can’t.”

“Oh, really? Well, that’s just great.” Tony pressed his palm against his forehead and caught Idun’s expression from the corner of his eye, alert, thoughtful, but also full of realisation. “What?” he growled.

“She’s the new Seeress,” Iduns said and turned to Hlin. “Aren’t you?”

The latter didn’t speak, didn’t nod, either, but her eyes gave everything away, and Tony felt cold spread through his insides. If Hlin wanted the apples for healing and for Tony’s sake, then it was either him or Loki who was going to get hurt. It had to be.

He was on his feet before he knew it. “What did you see?”

Hlin shook her head.

“ _What did you see?!”_

“Enough!”

Hands closer around his upper arms before he could really get into Hlin’s face, and he was yanked back.

“Let me go,” he hissed. “I promised some things to some people, and I want to keep my promises. I don’t know if I get hurt in your little premonition or Loki, but either way, I intend to be where he is. Take me back, and maybe whatever caused the need for those damn apples in the first place won’t happen.”

Idun didn’t let go yet. “Calm yourself.”

“How about you stopped telling me what to do?”

“She can’t tell you what she saw, you know.”

“What do I care.” He tried to yank his arm free again, and this time he succeeded. Idun’s hand was soon replaced by Jane’s, though, even if hers didn’t quite hold him as much as it was only resting on the armour.

“Stark. I want to hear the plan.” To Hlin she said, “You can’t talk about the vision, but you _can_ tell us what you want us to do. You owe us that, considering you brought us here as a way to bargain an apple from Idun since she doesn’t give them to Aesir. Am I right?”

Well, she _was_ smart.

Diverting her gaze, Hlin nodded and sighed. “Yes. I knew I couldn’t get the apple I needed, but you two are… different. You were the only chance. We need the apple, and then we need to get back to the battlefield and use it for healing.”

“That’s it?” Tony asked. “Because I feel like I’m missing a little piece. I know you’re supposed to be this protector, and maybe you don’t hate Loki, and don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome you’re trying to save him, but I can’t help but think you’d be more useful in battle. You could probably heal more people than just one.  So why? Is there _really_ no way to tell us? Did you see Loki die?” ( _Please, please no._ ) “Do these visions always come true?”

“Mostly. There have been one or two exceptions…”

“Great.” He covered his face with his hands for a moment and tried to swallow the knot in his throat. If Loki was to die… He had to do something. Even if he lost Loki, he had to try something; he’d never been one to accept he was defenceless against fate, and he wasn’t about to start believing it now. And if changing the fate meant begging, he was willing to do so. “Can we get that apple please?” “ _Please_?”

The few seconds of silence that followed were pure torture. At last, Idun nodded.

“I shall give you the apple.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Like, really. If you ever visit Earth and need a place to stay…”

“Wait here,” Idun said, smiling softly, then disappeared up the stairs. She returned a bit later with a single golden apple in her hand. A soft glow surrounded the fruit. It made Tony’s fingers itch to touch it, but Idun offered the apple to Hlin.

“She will know what to do with it,” the goddess explained. “Guard it well.”

“ _Now_ can we go?”

He had to move, he had to take action else he would go mad…

“It would be for the best if we could get a few hours of rest,” Hlin replied.

“You really think I can sleep right now? You’re practically telling me Loki will die if we don’t get the apple to him, and you want me to—”

The last thing he saw were Idun’s fingers reaching to his face, and then the world disappeared.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been ages, I know. I'm sorry. There are probably some five more chapters to go, and I will write them, but I can't tell you when. I'm trying to deal with some serious issues right now, and I understand waiting a few months for a chapter can be too long. Thank you all for reading so far. I hope some of you will still stick around.
> 
> I wish you all the best in the next year.
> 
> ~shades


	13. Chapter XIII: Not Well Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of red, a little bit of blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm not dead. Just in case you were wondering. I was ill way too much, though, and I found a new ship in the HP fandom, which-bad idea. 
> 
> A huge thanks to my beta and anyone who reviewed or left kudos or stuck around this long. 
> 
> (I listened to a whole lot of Two Steps from Hell music while writing this, so if somebody wants to give it a try...)

**Chapter XIII—Not Well Enough**

 

_Defend (verb): resist and attack on someone or something; protect from harm or danger._

 

Although it couldn’t be further from the truth, the world around him appeared to stand still. Slow breaths moved his ribcage under layers of leather and metal, and he could feel his heart straining against the confines of his chest. His muscles had locked into place a while ago when the waiting had begun. Even his hair lay on his shoulders unmoving in the absence of the wind; he’d considered tying it up but only pushed it away from his face with a practiced, magic-enhanced gesture.

The only part of him that moved were his eyes, combing the skies for disturbance. He should be able to see through the glamour that hid elven ships, as should some other mages and Heimdall. It would be up to them to direct the gunners. Luckily both the glamour and the ships appeared to be easy enough to take down. It would still be Asgard’s priority to force the enemy to the ground and keep the palace safe. The energy shield around Asgard’s centre may have been repaired, but it lacked its former strength.

Loki, of course, had different plans. Find an opportunity and use it. Raise hell.  Hopefully Fandral, Gna, and the five soldiers they’d chosen wouldn’t bail. It would be just his luck.

For now, all he could do was wait for dawn and hope the intel the Dark Elf had spilled was correct. It should have been. Norns knew Loki had revealed enough to the Chitauri, and they’d used it against him and unmade him again and again.

A shudder ran through him. 

He longed for the comfort of Tony’s presence at the same time as he was grateful for his absence. The memory of their last conversation stung. Tony hadn’t said no, not explicitly, yet it had felt like refusal, and Loki should know—it was one of his oldest friends. There could be no reasoning: If Tony didn’t wish to prolong his life, not even a little, Loki couldn’t force him. He’d been surrounded by people who didn’t want to be in his presence all his life, and he wouldn’t be able to bear seeing Tony turn into one of them. It was better that he should die than foster resentment.

Swallowing, he pressed his lips together. To have somebody after so long, and to lose them in perhaps thirty years…

He couldn’t let him go like this.

But he had to. He had to. Otherwise, there was no way Tony would consider staying.

His gaze swept the horizon. A glimmer caught his eye, and he turned his attention to it. Sure enough a ship appeared in the pre-dawn dusk.

He turned to Fandral. "Send the messenger to Thor. They're here.”

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Tony awoke fully rested and refreshed—but angry. For a moment, he didn’t even know who the anger was aimed at. Then he remembered fingers coming towards him and he bolted uprights only to find himself face to face with Hlin.

“You’re awake,” she said. “Good. We need to leave.”

“Did you two knock me out cold with magic? What the fuck?”

“You’re going to war. You had to sleep.”

Hlin grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet; no easy task what with the extra weight of his suit.

“I’ve been put to bed in _much_ nicer ways.” He hadn’t even been _in_ bed, merely lying on the floor. Ugh.  Across the room, Idun was helping Jane get up.

“This is war.” Hlin thrust a metal box into his hands. “So let’s make sure you can get back to those nicer ways sometime.”

With that she was off to exchange words with Idun. Tony peeked into the box and found it full of food. He wasn’t sure he could eat any of it, but at least it was a nice gesture.

They were back at the boat not ten minutes later. Tony found a spot at the bottom, leaning against the side. Jane sat down across from him.

“Here,” he said and offered her the box. “Eat something.”

 “You should, too,” Hlin said from the rudder. The boat lifted off the ground and soared up above the forest. Now that darkness had passed, Idun’s tree became visible, rising into the sky higher than Tony could follow it with his gaze.

“I’m not hungry.”

Hlin’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Not even her lips moved enough for anyone to be able to read them. Scowling, she pressed them together, then tried again.

“I didn’t see anyone dead,” she said. “Norns, this is infuriating. If I could only—Damn.” She shook her head.

“Close enough to death then.”

“I’m doing what I can. Jane? I will bring you into the palace, but until we get there, you can help us fight the war if you wish.”

The scientist lowered her hand. A piece of bread was squeezed between her fingers. Her brow furrowed. “How? I’m neither a warrior nor a healer.”

Hlin cocked her head. “I can teach you to fly the glider. You’ll be my pilot.”

Jane didn’t reply right away. Her gaze settled on her hands as if she suddenly doubted their ability to do anything. Thor would throw a temper tantrum the likes of which even Loki couldn’t reach if she died, but she was smart. She could figure it out.

“Teach me.” She put the piece of bread in her mouth and pushed the box over to Tony. “We’ll make sure you and Loki are all right.”

“Thanks,” he managed to mutter past the knot in his throat and took a piece of cheese out of the box.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

 

It turned out he couldn’t wait nearly as long as he’d planned. His body itched to move ( _fight kill slay—_ ) and he started pacing, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He could change the course of the battle if he interfered. Unfortunately, it would reduce his energy reserves, and he still had need of those, so he’d settled for watching from one of the high terraces as the Aesir tried to keep the enemy outside the city without much success.

Perhaps if there was anything left of Asgard after this, the people would finally understand why they did, in fact, need battle ships. Guns could take the enemy ships out but couldn’t be moved. Sky gliders were mobile, but they were open and the people they carried unprotected.

“Sire,” one of the soldiers asked, “are we to continue waiting?”

“Excellent question.” He could neither see nor sense the Aether, not even with the Tesseract’s help, and these men could do some damage if permitted.  “Three of you find yourself a glider and try to infiltrate a ship. Lady Gna, take the other two and do the same. Find out whatever you can, kill whoever is useless. If you hear anything important, report to Thor. If it pertains to the Aether, come to me.”

“And I?” Fandrall made a step forward.

“You come with me.” That way he would at least have somebody cover his back, and Fandral would get to keep an eye on him, which had probably been his objective from the start, although the desire to survive was surely a solid motive as well.

Loki took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Teleporting cost energy, but this time, he could refill his supplies with the Tesseract’s help. Besides, he had no desire to run across half the palace grounds to where the gliders were stored.

“Come,” he said, grabbed Fandral’s upper arm, and slipped away.

“Damn, Loki!” Fandral leaned onto his knees with his hands and took a few sharp breaths. “Since when can you do this?!”

Loki shrugged and climbed into the nearest sky glider. “I’ve learnt.”

“Could you take more people with you”?

He frowned. Why the sudden fascination with his abilities? Fandral may have thanked him a few times in the past when Loki had saves their hide with magic, but that had been in another time. Was the warrior trying to asses Loki’s abilities because he feared betrayal?

How unoriginal.

“I could.” Two or three perhaps.  “Don’t get us killed,” he said to Fandral when the man joined him on the glider and placed his hand on the rudder. Their gazes met, and Fandral gave a single nod.

“Likewise.”

 

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Entering Asgard was like falling into a movie. With laser guns. Which Tony should totally build, except he’d promised not to make any more weapons, so perhaps he could use the technology for his suits…? Really, not using the knowledge he could gain here to design them would be treason against science.

Jane, though quite capable of flying the boat by now, suffered an attack of nervous blabbering as soon as they were close enough to become interesting as a target, but she held the rudder firmly as Hlin handled the guns. It wasn’t until a Dark Elf ship started pursuing them that Hlin took over and Tony left the boat to zoom under the belly of the ship and unleash the unibeam at it. Something exploded, and the vessel plummeted. From then on, he settled for covering the boat from above.

Ten minutes later, his fascination was gone. The only thing he hated more than the laser guns, were those elven grenades that imploded. One of them peeled nearly all the armour pieces off his right arm, leaving just enough for the repulsor to still function (halfway). It also cost him about half of his nerves, which—not fun. He needed those, how else was he supposed to deal with idiots who pissed him off otherwise?

He kept looking out for Loki, but their progress towards the palace was slower than he would have liked, and so he was still too far away. Nevertheless, they were advancing. About time, too. Jane needed to get to safety. She’d done a good job flying, but Tony had to find Loki, and Hlin had to stick around because of whatever would make them need that apple, and looking out for an extra person simply made that harder.

He’d just dodged an attack when he caught a flash of red from the corner of his eye. The next thing he saw was Jane’s wide-eyed stare, and then a huge vessel looming somewhere above the bifrost.

Loki’s plan had better be good or they were all screwed.

“ _Stark!!!_ ”

He barely had the time to look at Hlin before something slammed into him from above. The force flung him straight into the boat. A scream echoed through the pounding in his head, and he was falling, falling…

Adrenaline kicked in. He steadied himself with his repulsors, then pressed his arms to his torso.

Jane and Hlin had been knocked off the boat, and they sure as hell didn’t have suits to keep them in the air.

He sped up as much as he could. Moments later, he caught Jane’s arm, and then Hlin’s, and started slowing down. Only a few more feet…

A blast of hot air hit him in the back, knocking them to the ground. Tony managed to let go of the women so as not to pull them with him, rolled over once, twice, a few more times, and finally stilled.

A breath passed his lips, and he felt so heavy.

He could keep his eyes closed for another moment, surely he could…

 

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

It was a drill by now. Fandral flew the glider straight _into_ the Dark Elf ship—once they’d found the doors, it had become so easy for Loki to reach out with magic and yank them open—and before the Elves knew what hit them, they collapsed onto the floor, Loki’s conjured-up knives protruding from their jugulars. Fandral rushed past them into the belly of the ship to kill anyone who may have been hiding. The crews in the previous five ships counted between four and six elves, and Loki had only brought down four in this one. He ignored the bodies and focused on the controls. By now, he knew how to fly the ship, so he directed it towards a larger one.

“Come!” he yelled towards the back. Fandral jogged back into the cabin and jumped into their glider. Blood stained his unsheathed blade.

“You have to admit this is fun,” he said.

Loki gripped the edge of the glider to hoist himself in—

And the Tesseract pulsed and _pulled_.

He froze.

The Aether was here. Malekith. Time to do the job, time to really use the Cube—

A cruel voice in his ear— _You have seen nothing yet… Let me show you power… Let me show you_ real _power_ …

A flash of blue.

“Come _on_!”

Something—someone— grabbed his wrist. Pain shot up his arm. The next moment, he found himself in the glider and staggered to his feet. From the corner of his eye, he saw the two ships collide, and an explosion shook the air.

“What _was_ that?” Fandral frowned.

Loki rubbed his wrist. “Malekith’s here.”

“There, I presume?” The warrior pointed towards an enormous ship looming on the horizon. “Are you going to do that again?”

Loki turned away from him. “We need to get closer.”

Nothing happened. Loki clenched his fists. Now was not the time for Fandral to show his disrespect by ignoring orders. In fact, now was not the time for anything but efficiency, because they _did not have_ time to waste. There were other ways of getting closer to the mother ship, and Loki only needed to plunge his hand into his pocket of space to touch one. He took a breath, feeling energy flow into him, and then he pushed all that energy back to punch a corridor through space—

Fandral grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “What are you doing?”

“What you just refused to,” he snarled and shook Fandral’s hand off. The other raised both hands in a placating gesture.

“What is going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not that stupid. You’re different than before. Something’s happened to you?”

“What do _you_ care?!”

A cloud of red spilled out of the elven ship, spread for a moment, and then gathered like a flock of birds aiming for the palace. Loki managed to react in the last moment. A portal opened like a giant wound in the sky and swallowed the red. Another gash of blue appeared, this one just behind the ship; the Aether had to exit somewhere, and if it caused damage to its master, all the better. Malekith seemed to be able to stop the attack in time to keep his flying fortress. Nevertheless, Loki noticed smoke rising where the ship had been hit.

“I’m trying to help you save Asgard!” Fandral shouted back. Loki turned to look at him again.

“Well, then there is no need for you to know anything! I would let you die, all of you, if—”

“ _Turn around!!!_ ”

It was too late. The energy shields around the palace shattered as if they were made of glass. Loki growled. This was all ( _your fault, your fault, yourfaultyourfault)_ Fandral’s fault. He was going to kill the man when this was over, _if_ it was—

“By the nine, _get us closer now!!!”_

The ship was approaching the broken shield, and Fandral finally turned the glider towards it. The Elves couldn’t get to the palace, not with children inside it, not with the morale boost that would give them.

Loki sucked in a sharp breath, and another one, slower. One quick gesture of his arms and he was holding the Tesseract in one hand. The other hovered over the Cube.  He reached out with his magic and felt the Tesseract respond, almost purr, as the tendrils of energy touched it. It took and it gave, and when Loki made a sweeping gesture with his free arm, blue light followed. The last thing Loki saw was a mass of red moving to intercept the beam of energy. Then the two collided and the explosion of light forced him to close his eyes and cover them as best he could. A blast of hot air knocked the glider sideward. Loki reached towards the side; his hand wrapped around metal, and somehow he managed to hang on.

A moment later, the air was still. Blinking, Loki uncurled his body. Fandral was groaning a few feet away, so he had to be well enough.

“We can’t stay on this thing,” he said, and for once, Loki had to agree with him. If he survived this, he would force Odin to build battle ships, and he was not above playing dirty.

“But you hit them nicely,” Fandral continued.

The giant ship was falling from the sky. Bits of red floated in the air, scattered.  Even as Fandral spoke, though, smaller ships separated from the main vessel. The Aether was regrouping.

Loki shook his head. “Not well enough. There.” He pointed to one of the palace’s bigger terraces. As much as he wanted to keep the fight away from the palace, it was the only building that was both high enough and had sufficiently big flat surfaces; he wouldn’t fight Malekith on the ground while the Elves could fly. Besides, Loki could still defend the palace even if he was standing on it.

“Weren’t you going to go after them?”

“To crash the ship. Malekith will come to me.”

He would have to; Loki had no intentions of letting him through. The Dark Elves just had to realise they had to take him out first, and another blast from the Tesseract should drive that point home.

It did.

One of the bigger vessels split from the rest. The Aether swirled around it as it crashed through oversized golden statues on one side of the terrace. Loki stood still, waiting.

Fandral sighed. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re mad.”

“Possibly. You’ll make sure nobody will disturb me. I’ll deal with Malekith.” He would already have to protect Fandral from the weapons; he really couldn’t afford more distractions.

The belly of the ship opened, and Malekith descended the ramp like a silent shadow. The Aether swirled around him, the faithful servant.

Loki waited.

"You've learnt some tricks since we last met." Malekith stopped about twenty yards away.

"Not since then."

"It matters not. I will not get into the palace unless I go through you, I assume."

"Perhaps you could."

"But you would do anything in your power to stop me," Malekith said and Loki inclined his head.

"Yes."

"Strange for someone who claimed to wish this world reduced to ash."

Loki didn't reply. He knew what he wanted from Asgard, but it needed to stay standing for him to get it. It was still somewhat of a relief when Malekith stopped talking and sent the Aether forward to do his bidding. Loki responded by raising pulsing blue shields, which turned into an attack, punching a hole through the Aether.

Almost far enough.

Malekith dodged. A whirlwind of red formed around them, first the elf and then Loki, and where it touched him, it lapped away his energy and power—his life force. Gritting his teeth, Loki darted forward, leaving a copy upon copy in his wake. Something moved by the ship, but he had no time to look as he did his best to create a thin bubble of protective energy around him and summoned his knives. They flew straight and sure, even though Loki's aim was a bit off, and embedded themselves into Malekith's thigh.

The Dark Elf cursed in a language Loki didn't understand. Strange. The Allspeak should be able to translate it. Perhaps there was no equivalent word in the Aesir language?

Be that as it may, now was not the time to ponder linguistic oddities. Loki was busy trying to evade and attack, block, attack—an endless rhythm with no certain pattern. Malekith seemed confident enough to rely on the Aether as his only weapon, which made the fight somewhat easier, yet Loki was still at a disadvantage. Not only did he have to create barriers to protect Fandral at times (although Malekith didn't seem to be particularly interested in some soldier who lingered nearby, not as long as Loki was the main threat and challenge), he also had to keep touching the Tesseract to constantly draw on its power, and that meant one of his hands was either trust into his pocket of space or holding the Tesseract in this reality and in both cases useless for anything else. He couldn't simply make the Tesseract hover around like the Aether. Surely there were ways to channel that power without touching the cube. If only Loki knew them. He was neither familiar nor confident enough to use his weapon to its full potential, and Malekith must have noticed. He was sending in attack after attack, forcing Loki to be on the defensive. This was not going well at all.

He danced away from another dark red blast as his heels found the edge of the terrace.

There was nowhere to go anymore. Unless...

He was just a bit too late. The full force of the Aether slammed into the Tesseract he'd raised on instinct, clutched in his hand as it was, to shield his face. Gravity won and he fell—

pulled on the Tesseract and _tore_ the fabric of reality. It shouldn't be done, such careless shredding of space. Portals needed to be teased open gently. The universe had to be convinced to part, whereas Loki had slashed a gushing wound through it. Nothing good could ever come through such harm...

His feet hit the ground behind Malekith.  He rolled over once (pain blossomed in his knee), and threw another set of knives at the Elf—but another figure appeared and fell under the blades.

Loki cursed.

Of course Malekith would have somebody covering his back. Loki had been too careless, too desperate...

That was the last thought he had time to think before a blade cut through his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-dah! Please let me know what you thought. :)
> 
> ~shades


	14. Chapter XIV: Light and Heat and ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it comes down to it, all of them cling to life and the ones that they love the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, guys. I don't think there's much to say here. Real Life's been screwing with me, and I basically lost my inspiration for this story, but here it is. Finally. There will be one more chapter and a short epilogue, both of which are already written and only need editing, so they should be up in a more reasonable amount of time. Sorry I left you waiting so long. You've been amazing, and you have no idea how much your comments and understanding meant to me.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

**Chapter XIV–Light and Heat and Ice**

_Realisation (noun): an act of becoming fully aware of something as a fact._

 

They dodged an onslaught of Aether, reached the terrace, and finally, finally—

Except he didn't want to see Loki like this, lying on the ground while Fandral stood in front of him and parried blow after blow. And Loki... Loki...

Tony's vision literally went red. Instinctively, he covered his face with his arm. The Aether roared in his ears and ate away at his armour—fuck, the pain in his shin, was that a hole in his suit?

Before he could even attempt to take a look, something bright flashed above him. The air trembled, and then the boat exploded. Jane's shriek reached his ears, his repulsors kicked in, and he caught her and zoomed towards Loki. If he dropped Jane a bit too roughly, who could blame him?

Loki was on his back, his armour pierced in the middle of his abdomen. Tony couldn't see the wound, but he saw the blood, and his insides twisted. Breathing was hard.

So cold. So hot.

His heartbeat echoed in his ears.

"Loki..."

He sank onto his knees and reached for the god's face just as another flash of bright blue came right at him. He dodged in the last moment, breath caught in his throat. Then he finally noticed Loki's hand. Or the absence of it.

It hadn't been cut off... It simply wasn't there. Had to be some weird magic. Damn it. Perhaps that space between dimensions. Whatever it was, the blue light was coming from it. Tony knew that particular shade of blue, knew it very well, but it was so _hard_ to give a fuck about anything. Loki was bleeding out, and Tony could press down on the wound all he wanted, he couldn't change a thing. He was too late.

Hlin dropped to her knees beside him. It all made sense now—the apple and Hlin's desperate attempt to defy her visions—yet it made no sense at all. How could Loki be the one to die first? Even if he survived... _if_... Tony had always thought he'd be the first to go, not Loki, who had survived so much worse...

How fragile lives were, how easy to take. Even Loki's, even...

He didn’t want to say goodbye to Loki, one way or another.

Hlin tried to push his hands off Loki, but he didn't want to let go. If he did, Loki would slip through his grasp, and he would—

He swallowed. Looked to the side where Fandral was battling the last elf. Behind them stood Malekith, head titled to the side as if the scene before him was oh so entertaining, and Tony growled. He aimed his repulsor at the Elf and shot a blast. Another one. Another. Another _anotheranother_ , but the Aether was _always in the way_.

He zoomed into the air, but the red came after him and locked him in place inside a cloud. No matter how the repulsors strained to bring him closer to Malekith, he wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough, and he was forced to watch as the Aether slowly ate away pieces of metal on his arm away until there was barely anything left and the repulsor sputtered and died.

Fuck it. He'd come too far to go down now.

Wait.

Go down.

He shut the remaining repulsors off and plummeted. The ground neared him with an alarming speed. Light shot out of his feet and he rolled over the stone. Not that the landing was graceful or pain free, but it was certainly better than hitting the ground headfirst (or buttfirst, for the matter).

He struggled onto his knees, then to one knee, and slowly, slowly onto his feet. Another streak of blue light whizzed past him. Malekith had come closer and stood there, watching, as the Aether swirled around him.

"You can't defeat me, mortal," he said. "Cease trying. Even your friend with the hammer failed. Your armour is no match for the Aether."

Tony clenched his fists. Malekith was right. His repulsors couldn't get through the Aether, and his armour couldn't protect him. The only thing powerful enough to give him a fighting chance was the Tesseract...

Possibilities flew through his mind. The arc reactor absorbed power...

He glanced over his shoulder, and found Jane and Fandral on the ground, Hlin still leaning over Loki, and Loki struggling to stay propped on his elbows. His heart skipped a bit. Loki was ali—

The Aether hit him in the stomach and sent him rolling towards the others. Damn. He needed to act now. From the corner of his eye, he saw blue light coming out of the magic hole. Hoping he was right, he threw himself in its way and extended the arm with the working repulsor towards Malekith.

Heat and pain coursed through him. He thought he screamed but couldn't be sure.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

The scream tore at his heart and ripped a strangled sound from his throat. His legs twitched as muscles in them contracted to sprint towards Tony, but his body was aching and slow, and refused to heed his command.

Hlin disappeared from his side just in time catch Tony's crumbling body.

Loki's fingertips dug into the stone underneath him. Slowly he pulled the other hand away from the Tesseract. His eyes followed Hlin as she carried Tony to Jane and Fandral and placed him on the ground. Tony's body jerked, and Loki's insides turned cold.

He was so cold--

He _was_ the cold.

The Casket felt like an icy weight in his pocket of space. He'd walked away from it in the vault, but when he'd been about to leave, something had frozen his feet on the spot.

He was a jotun.

A prince. The heir to their throne.

He was Loki and he was a jotun, and the Casket was his birthright.

He might be a monster, but sometimes one monster was needed to defeat the other.

He might have been a puppet before, and he'd sworn he'd never dance like one again and tried to prove his resolve by taking control of the very strings he's been hung on.

But he'd failed.

His gaze slid over the little group on his right. Tony, his Tony, lying on the ground, shivering and whimpering. Thor's woman, Jane, sitting with one leg stretched in front and bleeding from her knee. Fandral, motionless on his side. Hlin, bending over him.

They couldn't win this fight. Tony's weapons were far away and Loki... He was too scared.

But...

Tony convulsed again, and Hlin tore her hands away from Fandral’s chest to place them on Tony's. Loki's breath caught in his throat.

Movement made him turn his gaze elsewhere; the Aether was swirling, gathering to be unleashed again. There was no time. No other way.

 _Thud_.

A breath passed through his lips.

_Thud, thud._

Every heartbeat echoed through his body. His fingers closed around the Tesseract, and he screwed his eyes shut.

He'd sworn not to be a puppet again, but the puppeteer was dead and perhaps the way to win was not to fight against the strings but to admit he had them and use them as a weapon.

Tony's face was the last thing he saw before blue covered his consciousness.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Jane's heart was beating too fast, she felt the beats echo through her body and throb in her knee. Blood was slowly leaking onto the stone.

There'd been times in the past where she'd jumped headfirst into danger and walked away unscathed, but this time would be the last—for her and for all of them.

Stark moaned beside her and she clutched his hand. His gaze was locked on the two figures fighting. Did he know he was crying?

Something fell on Stark's cheek, and Jane swiped at her eyes; her hand came away wet. Stark looked at her for a moment, bleary-eyed and feverish, and she wanted to tell him they'd all be all right, but Loki was on the ground again, bleeding, and she couldn't find her voice.

She closed her eyes. Where was Thor?

A strangled sound made her look up again. Stark—Tony—Tony was staring at Loki. The god was back on his feet, but something was different. His skin seemed lighter, more transparent, bluer, as if the Tesseract's light was shining through it from the inside. He turned then, looked at Tony—no, talked to Tony through that one look—and then his eyes started turning blue. The whites, the irises, everything glowed Tesseract blue. Light shone through his eyes, his mouth, fought the way through his wounds.

Was he going to die?

This was insane. The light was pulsing under his skin as if it was intent on escaping. If it tore him apart, they were all done for, she was sure. In fact, she was beginning to suspect all their hopes had been resting on Loki from the beginning. Why else would Thor not be here yet? Sure, he could help, but they'd all seen Mjolnir couldn't destroy the Aether, nor defeat it. Had Odin ordered his army to let Loki handle Malekith? Shouldn't there be somebody to help him then?

There must have been, she realised as her gaze landed on Fandral. It just hadn't been enough. This was out of their league, even Loki's. No wonder Hlin had been desperate.

She shifted and pain shot through her leg. It had been years since she'd been in Church if only to please her parents, and she'd never mustered the faith to believe in a higher power, but she thought, surrounded by Norse deities and powerful artefacts and filled with uncertainty, now might be a good time to start praying.

Malekith’s words startled her out of her thoughts.

"You think this will help you?"

Her gaze slid to Elf’s face, black and white and morphed into a frown. He raised his arm, and with it, the Aether.

Loki didn't reply. He probably couldn't. How had the Tesseract not torn him apart yet? His hair was a dark halo around his head, his arms slowly stretching out like some weapon.

And then there was blue. Jane covered her face, blinking past the brightness. Her body trembled—or was it the ground? A whirlwind of light raged where the two fighters should be, red and blue and white, until it stopped. A moment later, she saw them stagger backwards, away from each other. Loki's heel slipped into a hole in the ground, and Jane held her breath for a moment. Then he caught his balance and straightened, no longer the tired, bleeding man from before. This... This wasn't Loki. This was a weapon, lithe, and deadly, and proficient—Malekith was missing an arm and serious amounts of blood if the stains on the ground were anything to go by.

 _Let it all be his blood. Let it be over soon. Please_. The very air was beginning to tremble, and she couldn't take this any longer.

Stark moaned at her side. She reached down to squeeze his shoulder, wishing he didn't have to watch this but knowing he would never look away.

Wherever Thor was, he should stay there. This... She swallowed and tried to blink away the pressure building up in her head. This was about to blow up.

Tears clouded her eyes, and then it did.

It was light and heat and ice all mixed into an inferno. Her hands flew up to protect her eyes, and still the brightness blinded her. White noise filled her ears. She was suspended in the moment, at the mercy of a force her body couldn't endure. There was no time to comprehend it, but she felt survival instincts screaming inside her. Another breath, and force would crush her. Yet it remained at bay, too close to cease causing her pain, but not close enough to obliterate her.

The sheer energy of such forces colliding should have wiped her out of existence, not leave her gasping on the ground. The taste of copper invaded her mouth. Pins and needles were all she could feel before she finally took in the smoothness beneath her palms, so cold it nearly burnt, and she forced herself to open her eyes.

Spots danced over her vision, orange, and chocolate brown, and so, so bright, then morphed into shapes. They came into sharpness surprisingly fast, and she lifted her gaze from her hands.

Everything was ice. The ground, the series of disproportionate spikes just high enough to hide her whole if she crouched, half of a dome rising over them all, thin, jagged, and already breaking. It stretched around the entire terrace, a makeshift wall in a crescent form, curling around Hlin and the prone forms of Fandral and Stark, who was cradled by ice shaped much like waves frozen in place.

In the middle of the crescent stood Loki. Ice had climbed up his legs and up to his ribs on the right side. His head hung low, his left arm limp. The right one was trapped in ice, fingers closed around a handle of a deep blue box.

She covered her mouth to cough, and her hand came away wet. Little red droplets stained her palm. Blood. God, she was alive. Blood was still coursing through her veins, breath pushing her lungs against her ribs.

Laughter bubbled on her lips and died as a dry sob. Then there were hands on her shoulders and blue eyes in front of her, and Thor cradled her to his chest.

"Thank the Norns," he murmured.

She closed her eyes.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

"Don't move."

Tony groaned. "I havn' 'ven op'n m' eyes ye'..." He coughed, trying to clear his throat. "I mean, I haven't even opened my eyes yet, how did you know?"

He forced his eyelids apart only to be greeted with a wide, far too innocent smile. "I'm a healer, Tony Stark."

He groaned again. "Then why do I feel like I've gotten deep fried?"

"Technically—" Hlin leaned forward and pressed her hand against his forehead "—that's not too far away from the truth. The Tesseract fried too many nerves in your body. It took us a whole night to heal you."

She didn't look all that tired, though, clean and dressed in white and lavender hues. He must have been asleep for some time, perhaps another day...

"I take it we won. A-and... A..." A lump formed in his throat.

"He's going to be all right." Hlin pointed to her right, and Tony followed her hand with his gaze. A breath caught in his throat, then broke free with too much force and turned into a strange mix between a sigh and a laugh. Loki was lying on a bed not more than a few steps away. Scratches criss-crossed over his pale skin, but his face was clean and his hair brushed away from his face. Still, he looked disturbingly fragile under the covers.

“And the others?”

Hlin nodded. “All alive and on the mend.” Tony sighed with relief.  "What happened? I remember Loki glowing all blue and some big explosions... How am I—how are we—?"

The smallest of frowns appeared on Hlin's brow. "Loki had the Casket. He made a...shield, of sorts. It was amazing, and I believe you're the reason he dared to reach for it." She paused. "It'll be all right if you encourage it."

"Have you Seen something?" She couldn't possibly know what would turn out peachy and what not otherwise. He and Loki weren't in the best place, no matter what improvements they'd made.

Hlin didn't answer, but the corners of her lips curled upwards, and that was an answer enough. Perhaps she'd Seen them somewhere in the future, spending time together or working up a sweat between the sheets—oh, no. No.

"Please tell me you've never had a vision of me and Loki having sex."

Her smile grew wider. "I'm quite sure Queen Frigga did."

Well. That was a whole new shade of awkward. Tony's body temperature increased by at least ten degrees, and he averted his gaze. His face was probably burning, but he was Tony done-worse Stark, and he wasn't going to hide just because of this.

"She seemed pleased with you," Hlin added and grinned. Tony pulled the covers over his head.

Time seemed to pass slowly for the rest of the day. Servants brought him food and a bowl and a washcloth, so he could clean himself. He ate some and drank a bit more. Most of the time, he spent half sitting, half lying in his bed, watching Loki breathe. Hlin brought him some strange concoction in the evening to help him sleep. It worked quickly. Just before his eyelids slid shut for the night, he saw a shadow—a silhouette of a person—by Loki's bed. Nobody was there when he woke up, but a chair was still by the god's bed where there had been none last night.

Loki awoke next afternoon. Tony was just making his first steps around the room (with Eir's permission), when he noticed motion from the corner of his eye, and turned to see Loki propped on his elbow.

"Lo!"

Tony dragged himself over as fast as he could and dropped himself into the chair.

A small smile greeted him, a sigh that couldn't be anything but relief.

"Tony. You're all right."

"Yeah." Something burnt behind his eyes. "You know, just deep-fried half my nerves, but, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He felt his face morph into a soppy grin.

Loki reached out and squeezed his hand. "We won, then."

"So I've been told. You were amazing. And terrifying. I'll have to be careful not to piss you off. Anyway. How are you feeling?"

Loki grimaced and propped his back against the headboard. "I miss our cats."

"Me too. We can go home now, right?"

Loki nodded. "Soon."

"Good."

Tony's gaze sank to their hands, Loki's in his, so different and such a perfect fit. "Listen." He swallowed and forced himself to look up again. "During the fight—“

“I’m sorry.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “For what?”

“For not being willing to listen to you. When. When we talked about the apples...” Loki averted his gaze. “I want you to stay with me, but… During the fight, I did all right. I wished you were with me, that is true, but more than that, I was wondering where you were and hoping that you were safe. Even if it wasn’t with me, I wanted you safe more than I wanted you by my side.” A pause. “I could fight without a problem.” Another pause, shorter, filled with a breath, and Loki’s voice became quieter. “I used the Tesseract even though… When you were hit,” Loki went on, his voice but a whisper, “I let the power in because defeating Malekith might have given somebody the opportunity to heal you. I would do the unspeakable for you, Tony, but I would do it even if you weren’t there to encourage me.”

Green eyes met Tony’s again, a bit too wide, a bit too bright. “I got scared,” Loki murmured, and Tony knew that fear, of loss, of death, “but if I could—the Tesseract… After what… I think—I think perhaps being scared is not a good reason to think something impossible.”

Loki’s grip on Tony’s hand tightened. His lips parted, then closed again. “Losing you scares me,” he said, and he sounded too careful, too breakable, and it made Tony want to wrap a blanket around them both, so he could hide them from the world. “But it wouldn’t kill me. Even if it did—if it will—I would lose you to my fear much earlier than at your death, I think. Whatever you choose, I will spend the years we get with you. If you stay, stay because you want to, not because you would do me a favour. I could never repay you, and a life of debt is not what I’d wish for us.”

Tony swallowed. His throat felt so dry it was a wonder his tongue didn’t stick to it, but something was loosening in his chest. He exhaled long and soft.

“Listen. I’ve been thinking, too. When I saw you there, bleeding out… Hlin had taken us to Idun, Jane and me. She’d had a vision, so she flew us there to get an apple from Idun, and she told us enough to know it would either be you or me who’d be in mortal danger. The whole time, I wanted to get back to you, as if by being close I could keep you safe. Then I saw you, and I—” He sucked in a breath. “I always thought I’d be the one to bite the dust first, not you. After all, you’ve survived way worse than I did. And I always seem to think my presence can make everything better. It’s weird. I know you can handle yourself, yet I still… My ego is a bit overgrown. The point is, though, that I realised I can and I have to trust you take care of yourself. Not that I’d ever be opposed to helping, but if I know you’ll be okay even if I can’t be there…

“I don’t want to lose you. Not to anything. I want to stay by your side. Besides…”

He paused to wet his lips; they’d become suspiciously dry.

“The apples. They don't grant immortality, the regenerate cells, correct?"

Loki's eyebrows arched, his brow furrowing. "Yes. What of it?"

"I think we approached this topic wrong the last time. I didn't have enough information. I still don't. For example, are the apples the reason you live so long or do they merely... Well, would live for millennia anyway?"

"We'd live long without them. What does that have to do with it? You'd live longer than anyone on Earth, and you told me you can't do that."

Tony swallowed a sigh. He'd known this wasn't going to be easy. Hell, that was an understatement.

"It matters. Look, there's a difference between having a human lifespan or a few millennia as your only options and being able to choose anything in between. If the apples magically regenerate your cells... Theoretically, I could grow old. I'd grow old with people I know and love, and then eat enough of the apples to get younger again. If I can age, it means I can live a semblance of a human life."

Loki looked him in the eyes. "You would still have to say goodbye eventually."

"Maybe, but not every few years. People would die, and it would be hard, but I... We could build a home somewhere. We wouldn't have to be on the move all the time, right?"

Loki didn't answer right away. He frowned again. "It would be possible..."

"Great. I think... I think I could do that. With you."

Loki blinked. Did it again. His lips curled up just a little. "You... You'd want to?"

"Yeah." He'd had long hours to think things through, weighting Loki against Pepper and Earth and loss, until he pushed the thought aside because these things couldn't be weighted, so why had he been trying to attribute some numeric value to them? He wanted everything, and he was willing to compromise. Perhaps he'd get tired of being something more than a human, or perhaps after getting older a few times, he'd wish to spend his time with Loki instead. True, he was only one person, but Tony had never kept many true friends. Besides, Bruce and Steve were a bit of a special case, too, so perhaps he wouldn’t lose everyone he knew…

 "Yeah, I really would. You... Us. It's...something that will remain. Uh. I don't know how to put this into words, but... I want to keep the things mortality grants us. And I want to keep my friends for as long as they can stick around. Pepper, and Happy, even Rhodey—I'm really glad to call them my friends and I want to do so until they die, and if I ever fought with them and we didn't hear from each other for a while, I'd trust we'd fix it again. But you, I'd go after. With you, it wouldn't be enough to know you'd be there six months later to complain about the newest shit I pulled. I'd want you there to stop me or to help me do it in the first place." He grinned for a moment. "I guess what I'm saying is that I want you in my life, and I want to stay in yours."

He got a smile in return, not very wide but all the more genuine for it.

"What about... I don't want to be dependent on you. If you stay—I want you to stay, you have no idea how much I want you to—but I can't—"

Tony felt the grip on his hand tighten before it disappeared.

"How do I...deal with that? I've never been this attached to anyone."

Honestly, Tony probably wasn't the right person to give advice about healthy relationships to anyone, but then again, "healthy" meant something else for every relationship, so perhaps it didn't matter quite as much.

"One day at a time," he said. "Possibly with the help of those two meowing devils. And mostly following your gut... I think. I mean, in the time you decided to"—he couldn't bring himself to say the word ignore—"have some you time, you dabbled into your heritage. You tried to discover who you are. Though I think self-discovery should involve at least one pizza."

Loki smiled a bit, and this time, it brought a spark to his eyes as well. "I took the Casket from the vault, you know. I almost left it there. I kept telling myself I wasn't there for that, that it wasn't the time to deal with it, but something made me go back and take it anyway." He averted his gaze. His fingers curled around the sheets. "I hate being one of them. I hate it. But I _am_ one of them. And during the…interrogation, I thought for the first time that being a Jotun might not make me a monster by default. I thought of... _him_ and... Of what people can do, of what different individuals choose to do... Tony. I might... not be evil, right? I'm not a monster unless I choose to act like one?"

"Of course you're not evil! Or a monster!"

Didn't Loki know that? Hadn't Tony reassured him already? They'd talked about it once, he was sure—and he mentally slapped himself. Of course one talk wouldn’t change integrated beliefs. But there had been so many other issues to work through...

"I know you don't see me as one, but I'm afraid you're a bit biased, Tony." Loki sighed. "They're monsters, you know. _The_ monsters. If I'm a Jotun, it makes me a monster. Unless I'm the exception, and not one of them—but that couldn't be true. People are a lovely mirror, and I—I always saw a monster staring back. I was one, and didn't want to be one even as a part of me relished it—so I must have been one. To think any differently... You could have told me I wasn't a monster a thousand times, and I would feel better because of the effort you made and still not believe a word. But somehow..." Loki's hand, knuckles white from the force in his grip, released the sheets. "For the first time, I had a thought that was the opposite of what I was brought up with, and I believed it. I still do, at times. I... Tony, is that going to be enough?"

He thought he understood now. Some things, you had to realise in your own, never mind you might have been hearing them your whole life.

"It's enough for now," he said. "Great, actually. You'll get there."

"Thank you. Tony?"

"Yes?"

"I'd take that pizza now."

Tony's lips stretched into a smile.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading. Comments are gold. :)
> 
> ~shades


	15. Chapter XV: May Not Have Been Entirely Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets a visitor, and Tony gets to take a bath.

**Chapter XV—May Not Have Been Entirely Honest**

 

_Apology (noun):_ _A regretful acknowledgement of an offence or failure_

 

The sky was painted purple, with splotches of pale pink and gold, the sun a globe on the horizon. It outlined the broken turrets and dented roofs and spilled like warm liquid over the sheets of Tony’s empty bed. A ray of sunshine was falling onto Loki’s hand. He could feel the difference in the temperature, small though it was. His other hand was closed over his upper arm.

Tony was gone for the time being. He’d been given permission and time to bathe, and after two days of using a washcloth, it had to be a relief. Loki hadn’t gotten further than a few steps around the room yet. He’d slept most of the day away while his body slowly recovered from the ridiculous amounts of power that had run through it. His skin was still overly sensitive to touch, albeit not to the point of pain. A tray with food rested on the table beside him, untouched. Eir would probably make him regret it, but he had no appetite and likely couldn’t keep the food down if he tried.

Silence was a blessing. The roar of raw power still echoed in his ears, and he saw impressions of blue behind closed eyes. He needed a little stillness, a little peace. The near isolation of the last day had felt like a chance to slowly learn how to breathe again, how to take in the world, how to be alive. He hadn’t told Tony, but somehow, the latter had understood and been content to share the silence when Loki had been awake.

They were going to make it. It wasn’t a statement; it was a decision. Tony had kept reaching out and believing, and if nothing else, Loki desperately wanted to trust that stubborn power to believe. Perhaps if he never gave up as well… At least they had a chance, which was more than he would’ve dared to hope for a few days ago. How he was supposed to regain his independence and trust in himself was still beyond him, but there was a small voice in his head that claimed he would figure it out. He still wasn’t entirely sure whether he should trust it or take it as a sign of insanity. With his luck, probably the latter…

Sighing, he crossed his arms behind his head. His chest felt tight, and he filled his lungs with as much air as they would hold, exhaled, and did it again. The tension abated.

He’d recovered from worse, and they had time. Perhaps… Perhaps it was no wonder he’d leaned on Tony so much. The Chitauri… _he_ —Thanos—

Loki pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there. Breathe. He was in Asgard, and Thanos was dead.

Slowly, slowly he forced the images away. Except they weren’t gone. They were never truly gone, and they never would be, and perhaps… Perhaps it was all right to need Tony’s help still. Perhaps he only had to become a little less dependant…

A breath in, a breath out. His chest was still somewhat too tight, somewhat cold and heavy.

It seemed achievable, however. He could do this. He could. Surely Tony would be there to help as best he could, and even if he weren’t…

He turned his face towards the sun and breathed in, slowly, again and again. He wasn’t weak—he’d survived the Tesseract, even controlled its power to some degree. A small part of him swelled with pride. He’d been terrified of losing control over the Cube, let alone letting it use him as a channel, yet he’d done it anyway. He _could_ do everything else as well.

Somebody knocked on the door, and Loki sat up straight, senses sharpening. Eir never knocked. Hlin did, but her way of knocking was different, more comfortable and altogether softer. This was nervous and choppy, and it produced a dull sound, as if the person didn’t remove his knuckles from the wood fast enough.

“Yes?”

The door opened, and Fandral slipped inside. Lok leaned forward just the slightest, ready to bolt from the bed any moment. What did the man want? Had he come to mock? What was there to mock anyway? Loki hadn’t done anything wrong this time. If anything, he’d wielded power none of the Aesir could hope to control. Then again, they likely weren’t happy about that...

Fandral stopped a little under teen feet from the bed, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“I’m not here to bother you,” he said.

“Then go.”

“I’m here to apologize.”

Loki blinked. Had he heard this right?

His eyes narrowed. “What for?”

“Um.” Fandral shifted again. Clasped his hands, opened them again. Then he sank to one knee, fist over his heart, his head bowed, as a warrior should before his lord.

It felt off. The Idiots Four, other Asgard’s warriors—they would never kneel in front of him unless protocol demanded it. This had to be mockery, but it didn’t _seem_ like mockery. Perhaps...it was genuine, but respect given only after he’d defeated Malekith for them, the kind of respect he neither needed nor wanted as it was merely another form of mockery to him. He wasn’t a tool to be taken out of storage and admired when the need arose only to be forgotten and left to rot at other times.

He scoffed. His lips parted to snap at Fandral, but the latter spoke first.

“Things. Many things if you will let me.”

Loki pressed his lips together. It couldn’t be that Asgard’s most famous womanizer actually planned to apologise for separate incidents, as opposed to following Thor’s lead with “whatever I have done”. It couldn’t. This was a joke. Any moment now, Loki would find out what was supposed to be funny.

“Get up,” he said, words clipped. Fandral did. Loki squared his shoulders and made a quick gesture with his hand, then made it again. If this was to end in humiliation, he’d rather have it over with as quickly as possible.

“Treason.” Fandral clasped his hands in front of him, worrying his fingers. “Failure to swear loyalty. Undue accusations. Acting on assumptions.”

Loki pressed his lips together. Muscles in his back were pulled taut from the effort to sit ramrod straight. Breathe in, breathe out. As surprising as it was to hear an actual apology, he had no idea what to do with it. Did Fandral think apologising—for _treason_ of all things—would make everything all right? Treason was punishable by _death_ or banishment at the least, and he— he thought—

“Did you know,” Loki said slowly, every word like lead on his tongue, “it was Mother who made me regent and had Gungnir placed in my hands?”

Fandral shook his head.  “No, my...liege.”

“Don’t.”

Was that his voice, shaping words? It sounded as if it were coming from somewhere far away, somewhere _not him_ because he wasn’t in his body anymore, and yet he could feel everything too intensely. The breaths stretching his lungs, too shallow, too short. The last sunrays heating up his skin. The sharp hiss of his inhales. “Don’t call me that.”

“My apologies. What…should I call you?”

_Nothing_. “Loki,” his voice said. That was all he was, in the end. Aesir, Jotun, prince, criminal—he never fit any of the roles. Being Loki was enough, Tony had said. It was enough, it _was_ enough.

“What did you _think_?” He spit out the word, voice rising at the end. “That I planned all that? That I planned to have Thor banished? That I _murdered_ Mother and Allfather and put myself on the throne?” His fingers were clutching the edge of the sheets; he couldn’t feel them anymore. “Why would I do that? By Nine, why would I do that?! Does it sound like a good plan to you?! Slay the king and have half of Asgard after my head before morning?! _Does it!?!_ ”

Fandral took a step back, worrying his lower lip. If only it would open and _bleed_. Something inside Loki was screaming for blood and thrumming with the need to hurt, and pummel, and kill.

“It does not,” Fandral said quietly, and Loki wanted to slam him against the wall with enough force to crack the stone, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe—

“We thought it was too convenient for Thor to be banished and the Allfather to fall into the Odinsleep at the same time.”

“Convenient.” Laughter bubbled on his lips. “ _Convenient_. Truly, he couldn’t have chosen a better time.”

“You were going to kill Laufey. And destroy Jotunheim. Thor said that. You were going to kill the entire race.”

He pressed his lips together, and Fandral continued. “What happened on the Bridge?”

“Hasn’t Thor told you?” Why was Fandral asking these things? He couldn’t want to know, nobody on Asgard ever did. It didn’t make sense.

“Yes.”

“Then why ask me?”

“Because Thor… May not have been entirely honest.”

“Elaborate.” The muscles in his back were burning from effort by now, but he couldn't get them to relax.

“I don’t really…” Fandral shifted again. His gaze slid to the floor, then back to Loki. “You came back to Asgard to fight for us. Why? You hate Asgard. Asgard doesn’t particularly like you either.”

Tony had been here. He couldn’t have abandoned a world with his Tony on it. And Mother…

“I had my reasons. Of course you’re right. There is no love lost between Asgard and I. Tell me, how many grumbled when Odin pardoned me?”

Fandral let his head fall towards his chest. “Many thought he let you off too easily.” A pause, then he looked up again. “But he didn’t, did he? I saw your mortal when he first came to Asgard. The Allfather left with him. Two days later he was back with news, and I swear half the universe breathed a sigh of relief. Did you kill him? The Mad Titan, I mean?”

He twitched backwards before he could even attempt to hold still. “No,” he said even as Fandral frowned, “Tony's weapons did.”

“But you had something to do with it, didn’t you?”

“What does it matter?” he snapped. Thanos, Thanos—he didn’t want to think about _him_ , didn’t want to even think about thinking, and his composure was slipping—

Fandral took a deep breath. “Apologies. I think I might be getting at all this in the wrong way.”

What did he even mean? What was _this_? He’d mentioned this and that, bits and pieces from most of the uncomfortable topics, but how were they connected? What did the Mad Titan have to do with the treason Fandral had committed? Was this really an attempt at apologising?

Loki forced himself to take a deep breath and think. It couldn’t be so hard. Bits and pieces. He just needed to take the right bits and pieces, and they would paint him the picture. Was that what Fandral was doing? Trying to piece something together?

He frowned. Information gathering then, but for what purpose?

“Try the right way,” he said. If Fandral tried to pull information out him, he would notice.

“I’m not certain there is a right way,” the warrior said and ran his hand through his hair. “In short, I’ve done and said many things in the past you probably didn’t deserve. I have no doubt that you protected Asgard for your own reasons, but the fact remains that you did, and you’ve done it many times before that perhaps… we weren’t entirely aware of. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I think you’re not as bad or as wrong about things as I use to think and—” He cut himself off, swallowing. “I saw you,” he said, voice quiet and raspy as if it had been meant to come out much stronger. It made Loki’s insides go cold.

Here was the other shoe, Tony would say. Or did it drop? Something happened to the shoe, of that he was certain. Either way, he felt the trap close around him.

“In the ice,” Fandral went on, looking here and there, but never at Loki. “You arm was blue. Are you a… you know. Of mixed blood?”

Loki’s lungs felt as if his ribcage suddenly wasn’t big enough to accommodate them. Fandral had seen him. He _knew_. An army of armed Arsier should be flooding the place and crying out for his blood. Fandral should be pointing his sword at him, telling him how everybody had always know Loki was rotten and _wrong_. Instead…

“I don’t know,” he managed. Magic was throbbing in his veins, ready to lash out. Mixed blood? Perhaps that would explain his size. Or he really was just a runt. Or perhaps whatever spell Odin had placed on him had inhibited his growth?

“But you’re not… That is, the Allfather and Queen Frigga…”

“Why do you ask? Why do you ask all this?!” It made no _sense_.

“I suppose it might explain a few things. Except… If you’re a—one of them, why would you destroy them?”

Loki swallowed. “I _was_ loyal to Asgard at some point. Not that you would care to believe that.”

Fandral turned on his heel. Made a few steps towards the window, turned back to Loki again. Clenched his fists and unclenched them and took a breath.

“Look. I know you owe me no explanation. You don’t trust me, and it would not be exactly true to say that I trust you, either, but I give you my word, as a warrior of Asgard to my prince, that I will keep this a secret.”

Loki stared at him. “Why? Don’t you hate me?”

“No. I don’t.” Fandral ran his fingers through his hair again. “Many things have happened since the time you died. Or, well, were thought to have died. We’ve changed. You’ve changed. Things were said, by Odin, by your Anthony… I thought I should, perhaps, rethink my actions a bit. You _did_ just protect Asgard.”

Loki looked down at his hands. They were still clenched around the sheets, and he forced his fingers to relax. Fandral hadn’t stabbed him in the back during the battle. He hadn’t started mocking him yet, and an oath should have value, though there was no guarantee (who even made an oath to a frost giant?). The only security he had was the fact Odin didn’t seem to want his realm to find out Loki’s true heritage.

“I see. I accept your apology, but I have no forgiveness to offer.”

Fandral's lips curled into a smirk that was gone as fast as it appeared. “I would be more concerned if you did.”

Loki didn’t say anything.

“Right. Well. I’ll make myself scarce.” Bowing, his fist over his heart, Fandral turned and left the room. Loki sagged against the pillows, his muscles nearly groaning in relief. He closed his eyes, but the stillness he’d been enjoying before evaded him now.

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

“I feel alive again,”  Tony announced as he pushed open the door to the room he and Loki had been staying in for the last couple of days. He was finally truly clean; wet cloths were nice, but you could only do so much without running water, and the absence of a decent shower brought memories of Afghanistan a bit too close. (That and his beard needed trimming to achieve the desired effect.)

Loki gave him a smile that was strained around the edges. Covers were wrapped around him like a shield.

“What’s new, snowflake?” He sat down by Loki’s hip. The clothes he’d been given, although Aesir, weren’t made of leather this time; they were thin and soft, and allowed a surprising range of movement. “Thor came to drop off his fruit basket?”

With a slight frow, Loki shook his head. “We need to talk.”

Well, that didn't sound ominous at all. Last time, Loki had decided to cut him right out of his life. But they’d talked, cleared things up, even.

“I have to… tell you something. Two things.”

“Yes?”

Loki opened his mouth to speak. In that moment, the door swung open again, this time to admit Thor.

“Loki! Friend Anthony! I’ve received word you’re awake!” His cloak pooled around him as he moved, revealing and hiding red leather. A few fading scratches marred his cheek. All in all, he looked precisely like a warrior who’d walked out of battle victorious and was busy celebrating, and Tony would bet a considerable portion of his car collection that that was exactly what Thor had been doing.

“You reek of mead,” Loki said, grimacing.

“I don’t reek, I’ve barely had any today.”

“You’ve been celebrating for three days.”

“It’s been a glorious feast. You should join us, now that you’re well enough. If, you know, you…”

Loki’s arched brows were quite an appropriate reaction. It wasn’t like Thor to stumble over words or be unsure of what he was trying to say.

“You brought Asard victory, brother. Loki. There is space for you, should you wish to join us. You, as well, Friend Tony.”

“Thanks, Hercules.” Not that Tony was too keen on joining. The last feast had Loki fleeing the hall with a panic attack, and he wasn’t big on repeating that, thank you very much. Loki would be the one to decide anyway.

Thor moved his gaze from one to the other.

“I have a conversation to start with Tony,” Loki said after those blue eyes landed on him for the third time.

“Surely—” Thor snapped his mouth shut. “Very well. I shall see you afterwards.”

Then he was off. Tony’s gaze lingered on the door. “Is it just me or…”

“Or,” Loki said. “Fandral came to see me.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose. That couldn’t be good.

“What did he want?”

“To apologize.” Loki frowned, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not certain… He didn’t appear to be lying. However, for him to…” He shook his head. “He saw me shed the glamour.”

Tony felt every muscle in his body constrict. His lips parted, but before he could speak, Loki’s fingers closed around his forearm.

“I have his word that he wouldn’t tell. Of course a word given to a frost giant may not mean much, but nobody has come after me yet, and he certainly hasn’t shared the news with Thor. I could tell that much.”

“So you think it’s relatively safe to assume he’ll hold his tongue?”

“I’d say yes. Be prepared for the worst regardless.” Loki bit his lip and turned towards the window, then sharply back again. “If he plans to keep his word, he gained nothing by confronting me.”

Perhaps not… But then, perhaps he had. Fandral was too full of himself and too much of a poster boy for Asgard, but he _had_ stood at Tony and Jane’s side against those bullies, and even defended Loki in a way.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think he tried to prove himself trustworthy, in a way.”

Loki started drawing patterns on his palm with the thumb of his other hand. “He has no need of my trust.”

“I don’t know. Imagine the situation happening to someone else, not you.” Tony ran a hand through his hair, catching a whiff of spruce and some heavy sweetness; the oil he’d used in the bath still clung to his skin. “I need a drink. And my leather couch, and a family-sized pizza.”

Loki sighed, but an ever so minute of smiles appeared on his face. “Soon. I have apples to gather and unfinished business with Odin.”

“Yeah?”

“In return for helping him fight the war, I get to ask for something.”

That didn’t sound too bad, as far as unfinished business went. Still…

“What will you ask for?”

There was a moment of silence, and then another. Loki exhaled audibly.

“All that is rightfully mine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and comments and kudos. Please let me know what you thought. The whole Fandral thing was partially inspired by a tumblr post I can't find anymore, but it's similar to [this](http://rainfelt.tumblr.com/post/95183912002/mercadesviper-rainfelt-thorkizilla-thor). 
> 
> Take care.
> 
> ~shades


	16. Chapter XVI: Welcome Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to go.

**Chapter XVI—Welcome Here**

 

_Home (noun):_ _The place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household._

 

Loki stood on the shore, water lapping at his boots. Wind blew strands of hair into his face, and he pushed it away. On the horizon, the sky was barely beginning to brighten as a new day stirred, and a fresh, salty smell hung in the air, filling Loki’s lungs as he inhaled.

Sometimes he wondered where the enormous mass of water disappeared to after it had tumbled over the edge. The abyss could swallow it up effortlessly, every last drop of it. Or did some ancient magic draw it back to its source so that Asgard’s rivers would never run dry? Idun should know…

His gaze followed the water to the edge. In his mind, he could see a boat carried by the flow, one among many, as if they were some kind of twisted reflections of the stars. He could see fingers intertwined on the finest fabric Aesir could spin, though it should have been the breastplate of her armour. She’d died a warrior’s death, from what he’d heard. When he’d still been a boy, he’d seen her fight off bandits, and she’d been beautiful and terrifying in a way nobody ever spoke about, with her hair undone and droplets of blood on her cheeks.

Hopefully they’d left her hair undone for the funeral. How could somebody bear to braid them when she was dead?

A burning sensation spread through his chest, and he felt wetness on his cheeks.

She was gone. If he could go back to his childhood and climb onto her lap just once more—

If he could go back and tell her she’d always been his mother and always would be, the only family member he’d never been able to deny, the only one who’d never rejected him—

His vision blurred. Wind brushed against his face, cold on his wet skin. His lips moved, trembling, and the song came out in broken murmurs. His mother would sing it to him when they sat in the gardens and sometimes at night, and he’d sung it to Tony that morning that seemed so long ago. Note after note until his voice cracked, and he sank to his knees, blinded and deaf to the world as grief made him scream.

She’d been his mother, and she was gone, and after a while, so were his tears. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and cupped his hands. She was gone, and yet.

Magic carried warmth down his arms, through his hands and fingertips until it took form as a ball of light, small at first but growing until in it filled his hands. With one more breath, he released it and watched it rise until he could no longer tell it from the sky.

It took him a long time to move again, and even then it was more because he heard gravel shift beneath boots than because he'd want to. He knew the sound of those footsteps, heavy and even. They stopped a few feet away. Loki waited, but Thor said nothing.

“Do you need anything from me?”

“No. Merely desire if you will ever be willing to give it, and I’ve something to offer if you’ll be willing to accept it.”

“Go on.”

“You were saying goodbye to Mother, were you not?”

He frowned but didn’t turn; red eyes would give him away, and he had no desire to use a glamour. Perhaps because he was honest in his pain, but that pain was private, and Thor didn’t need to know.

“Yes.”

“Well, she seemed to have approved of Anthony. Anthony and you. Together. I tried to see her reasons, and while I don’t understand what all of them could be, I talked to Jane as well… I’m sorry, Loki, that I judged you for being with Anthony. If it means anything to you, even though you have no need for it, you have my blessing.”

Loki stood still. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “I approve of Jane as well.” She had a talent for making Thor realise things. As much as it was maddening that he listened to her where he had repeatedly refused to listen to Loki, it was also good for both Thor and Asgard.

“Thank you. You don’t know how much that means.” A short pause. “Mother never stopped believing in you. She told me once when I… When I was full of doubt. She said to have hope. And she was right, wasn’t she? You saved us all.” He took a deep breath. “ Loki, I’m sorry for doubting. For failing you when you needed help.”

“You should look forward. Asgard is still standing and you’ll have much to do.”

“I would love nothing more than take her to the future with you by my side. But that is not to be, is it?” Thor shifted; the gravel crunched. “Perhaps somewhere in the future you’ll return?”

“Perhaps,” he said, and he meant it.

 

 

~*oO*o*Oo*~

 

Eight legs! The horse actually had eight legs! Sure, Loki had told him, but... Well, Tony may or may not have rubbed his eyes. Twice, although the second time was totally because the horse’s mane was so shiny.

Sleipnir. Loki’s son.

It had saddened Tony to hear that this particular myth was based on the truth. Enough bad had happened to Loki already, no need to add to that another rape and the shame that had driven him to lie and offer Sleipnir to Odin as an apology that shouldn't have been needed in the first place.

On the hand hand, Tony was pretty damn proud of his partner right now. He’d gotten the chance to watch as Loki stepped towards Odin, drew himself to his full height, and demanded all that was rightfully his. Way to find a loophole in being owned a single favour.

It had taken some bargaining, but in the end, he’d walked away with Sleipnir, the Casket, and his status as a prince of Asgard safe for the future, consequently granting him access to the golden apples. Without Idun’s magic, they weren’t quite powerful enough to noticeably elongate Tony’s life, but Loki was sure they’d keep him in good health until he could win Idun over (which was probably a reasonable assumption; saving the world should have gotten him in Idun’s good graces and she seemed to tolerate Tony as well).

Right now, his primary concern was more along the lines of what the hell he was supposed to do with an eight-legged horse on Earth? Buy a top secret property for him? Loki had better be able to put glamour on some of those extra appendages.

The thought of Earth made him drum his fingers against his thigh. So close to going home… He only needed Loki to show up, and sure, Loki should take his time saying goodbye, but Tony had the right to be a little impatient. After the week in Asgard, he really deserved some of the best New York pizza and a movie marathon. Or perhaps a series… It was high time he introduced Loki to the horror that was waiting for a new season.

Finally, a silhouette appeared on the bridge and split in two, and after a while Tony could discern Loki and, next to him, Thor.

A little strange perhaps. But not…necessarily bad.

“Ready?” he asked when the two gods stopped in front of him. The both nodded.

“This is where I leave you,” Thor said. “Loki. Friend Tony.” He looked both of them in the eyes and nodded in his strangely solemn way. “You’re welcome here anytime.” He held out his hand.

“Thanks.” Eyeing the hand with suspicion (he liked all his fingers attached, thank you very much), he slowly accepted it. As expected, all circulation in his fingers was cut off for a moment, but Thor smiled and nothing broke, so it was probably fine.

Thor and Loki shared another nod, then the latter turned on his heel, waved for Tony to follow, and walked towards the sun nestled behind the observatory. Tony caught up in a few steps. He could hear the sound of hooves behind them and feel the warmth on his skin and inside his chest.

They were finally going home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys. Thank you all for sticking with the story, for commenting, and just generally not giving up on me. ^^' Stay awesome. 
> 
> ~shades


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